Lost Soul
by ashmanonar
Summary: A night out becomes a near-tragedy for Hermione Granger, but when someone tall, dark, and handsome steps up and destroys her attacker, she discovers that wizards don't only come from Britain. A Dresden/Granger romance set in Chicago; Post-DH and Post-Death Masks. Rated M for a reason; characters speak and act freely. Not for the kiddies.
1. Prologue

Prologue: Escape

* * *

In the end, it was fear that drove Hermione Granger, the Brightest Witch of her Age, to leave Britain. Fear of being recognized. Fear of being alone. Fear of falling behind, like the Wizarding World had. Fear of the press. Fear of herself.

After the disastrous events of March 2001, Hermione's departure to distant lands was swift and complete.

She'd come home to the flat she shared with Ron one day, to find him in bed with another. A screaming match ensued, things were said that could not be unsaid, and she left.

A bottle of firewhiskey, 23 butterbeers, and a very licentious (and unfortunately photographed) interlude with a random former classmate of theirs later, any relationship they could have in future had been shattered beyond repair.

Hermione fled, escaping public opinion, Weasley rage, and her own fears in early April, 2001. The Weasley family (specifically Molly and Ginny) had proclaimed her persona non grata, barring George (who had his own issues with his family), Percy (who knew Hermione better than Ron knew and knew she hadn't done anything that Ron hadn't done first), and Harry (who would not abandon his best friend). The rest (except for maybe Arthur, who still saw the girl as she had been when they first met) were quite serious about never seeing her again. A series of interviews with Rita Skeeter and the Prophet (most of which were at least exaggerated if not false) and a number of published photographs led to public opinion going against Hermione, and her career aspirations in the Ministry going down the toilet.

So she escaped. Escaped a life that had been nothing but drama and excitement, highs and lows (which seemed quite the normal in the wizarding world).

She liquidated her not inconsiderable ownings; a flat, a number of awards and such that she'd gotten from their destruction of Voldemort, and basically everything she owned except for what she needed to live. Everything, including the entire substance of her Gringotts vault, went into a Swiss account as British pounds sterling; enough to live on for some time, thanks to her friends at Gringotts that she'd cultivated during her job. She had been sad to leave them behind when she left, but they were most understanding, and had promised friendship forevermore, even helping book her flight.

She departed via a 9:30 flight from Heathrow, into JFK International Airport. An interesting confrontation with the Customs and Immigration people notwithstanding, her entry into the United States was mostly average. She'd hidden her magical possessions inside a very well concealed pocket (hidden via glamours and Undetectable Extension Charm), so all she had in her suitcase was blatantly "muggle." Her passport and immigration papers had been processed quite normally, which had occasioned trips into London earlier that month, to the US consulate.

She sought out information about the educational system here; she learned she'd need a GED, thanks to her Hogwarts education not transferring at all. Fortunately, she was a prodigious reader and an expert studier and managed to pass her GED within a month. Following that had been a battery of college testing, and applications to universities around the country. She spent a total of 3 and a half months in New York, in a tiny rented flat in the Bronx, studying her ass off and applying to Universities.

Acceptances came from all over, but the best she'd received seemed to be in Illinois, the University of Chicago in Hyde Park. She moved in late August, just in time for the new student orientation at U of C. She found a cheapish student apartment in Hyde Park, and although she left her more public room the normal size, she subtly enchanted the bedroom to a larger size with the Undetectable Extension Charm, and using tiny carved runes in the baseboards, made it adjustable.

Her experience in September, with the freshman orientation at UofC, was unlike anything she'd had before. Hogwarts certainly didn't have this; tours of campus (although the UofC campus was among large office buildings, not a medieval castle in Scotland with crazy moving staircases, which made the situation even more strange), several "meet market" exercises where students were encouraged to interact in team-building exercises, and just...it was different. The only mar on the experience had been the week following the terrorist attack in New York; she'd been shaken to know that she would have been close enough to World Trade Center on some days, to possibly have become a casualty.

Hermione had always had trouble making friends, and this was no different. She knew now, though, that she'd have to go out and force herself to do so; during her first month at UofC she made connections with the "Library Gang" as they became known; a group of especially studious people who found themselves at the Library more often than not, and built friendships among each other. They were from different majors; History, Psych, Philosophy, Sciences (specifically Physics), Mathematics, and Poli Sci. Alana, Sally, Michael, James, and Caryna became Hermione's friends and accomplices. None were magical, and all could tell that something was slightly different about their bushy-haired friend, but none of them really cared; they were all different in their own way, and the States didn't have the ingrained class system that had plagued Hermione in Britain.

She'd briefly met Billy and Georgia, his girlfriend in the library as well; both of them felt different, to her, compared to the normal muggles she dealt with on a daily basis. They felt...feral, to her. Almost like Lupin had. She wondered if the reason was the same.

Hermione found that despite having friends, being in a normal place instead of a magical castle, and even a fairly normal job in a place called Bock Ordered Books (which turned out to have a distinct spiritual and even magical section to it), she found herself getting into trouble.

She went out on weekends with her friend Sally, a frequent club-goer herself; the girl was slightly curvy, with a great bust and wide hips, a shock of pixie-cut raven-colored hair and warm purple eyes. Hermione found herself engrossed in the goth club scene, with her clothes styles subtly changing. The clubbing lifestyle led to a number of failed relationships, mostly built on sex and the club "scene", as well as a string of blurry one-night stands thanks to alcohol. She'd even nearly experienced date rape once, thanks to GHB; her saviour in that instance had been Sally, who noticed the glossy eyes and pliant manner (so unlike her usually level-headed and fiery friend) when she'd gone by with a shifty looking young man. She met Officer Henry Rawlins for the first time; he was the responding officer who arrested the would-be rapist, and had given her some gentle fatherly scolding and advice regarding clubbing and dating, much of which had been ignored.

She'd kept in touch with Harry, George, Percy, and Luna, and a few others from "home" (even, surprise of surprises, Draco Malfoy), but only infrequently; once a month or so, there'd be a round of letters. She'd never taken to the use of computers, thanks to her immersion in the magical world since the age of 1991, and the fact that most electronic devices simply failed on her before long. She'd put up with a ribbon typewriter for schoolwork, an ancient old tube TV, a solid and decidedly non-portable phone, and an old-fashioned tape answering machine. Her friends thought she was "quirky." Her professors praised her for the first- and second-hand sources used in her papers, rather than the Wikipedia copy-paste they'd become accustomed to.

She'd been acquaintances with some of the young people who burned to death in the mansion outside the city; no reason had ever been given for the destruction by fire, nor for the presence of the young people there, except to say that there'd been a party.

During June of the following year, she'd had a front-row seat to the huge storm over Lake Michigan, and the massive city-wide power outages. She'd also seen a few strange things that she couldn't explain, even with 7 years of magical school, that she'd asked her boss about; he'd shaken his head mournfully, not wanting to give her the answer even if he knew it.

In February of 2003, she'd gotten dreadfully ill and mysteriously recovered following a train-switch at Union Station (said illness had spread through most of the traveling population that headed out of O'Hare that day), and read in the news about both the mysterious cult murder that occurred in the O'Hare chapel (which looked magical to her; she had no idea how though) and the news report in the month following her illness, which stated that an old Russian satellite had fallen on a manor in South America, killing all there.

So when her night out at a very loud, very dark, and very spooky goth club in June of 2003 went _very _weird, somehow, she wasn't surprised.

Not at all.

She was even less surprised to find out that her apparent saviour was also named Harry.

* * *

AN: This is an experiment for me; I'm not an expert in psychology, nor am I Jim Butcher or JK Rowling, although I think Butcher would approve of the tortures I inflict on Harry, although I probably have the same grasp for Chicago geography that Jim Butcher has. The POV shift from first to third is unusual for a Dresden fic, but I prefer it. First person is hard.

Unbetaed, so if you see something that is off, let me know. I'm not perfect, much as I wish I could be. Appreciate reviews!


	2. Chapter 1

AN: Okay, I'm angry with myself. I totally screwed the pooch on timeline for this story, which makes chapters 9-12 screwed up. I may not be able to update this right away until I fix the timeline concerns (IE, fill in a _year_ worth of time I hadn't realized I missed). Apologies all.

* * *

Chapter 1: First Meetings

* * *

_This club is _definitely_ an interesting place,_ she decided.

The Goth dance club Gothique, kitty-corner to Clark Street, was lit with dark red indirect lighting and very little else. It was dark enough that there was a bit of trouble making out faces. The place was packed, even for a Wednesday night.

_Sally will _flip_ when she hears I came alone._ she thought, grinning into her Bloody Maria (tequila in the place of vodka) as she bobbed and arched to the soul-pounding music. It wasn't that it was _loud_, it was just in that right tonal range where sound was converted to motion very easily.

A good amount of the club-goers (apart from the obvious "virgins", who just wore dark clothes - black jeans or skirts and shirts) wore head to toe leather, in various styles; long Matrix-inspired coats, strappy and baggy leather pants, skin-tight leather breastplates, halter tops that looked poured on, and much more...her current outfit was a strappy cut-out style black satin dress, with leather buckles and straps across the torso beneath that ample and loose decolletage. It was hemmed only about 3 inches below her hips, showing off plenty of leg, though she'd made up for it with thigh-high black stockings clipped to a garter belt and knee-high leather boots, with her hair pulled back in a tight braid that was interwoven with a satin ribbon.

Honestly, with what some of the other girls were wearing, she felt a bit overdressed. As in, she was wearing _too much._ Sex and skin were the order of the day here, it seemed. She wouldn't have been surprised to see St. Andrew's crosses and restraints along the walls, and sex furniture in the alcoves. The place had seemingly decided to tone it down in that respect, at least. Maybe they couldn't get the permits.

She'd danced with a half dozen yummy looking guys, who were all noncommittal enough to not get clingy, for which she was thankful; she had decided a year ago to try to enjoy the club life without getting herself into club _relationships_ (with only limited success).

She was looking for her next victim when she saw someone who stood out; literally, as he was about 6'9". He wore an incredibly sexy knee-length (on him, on her it would drag like a bridal train) black leather duster, one that looked like it belonged on the set of a Western. He had a thin build, but muscles enough to count and what looked like half a six-pack, though he was not burly or bulky. He was scarred enough on his face and neck to make her wonder just what he did for a living; his ear-length shaggy hair was tousled (although not in that "just fucked" way, more the "time to take Rover for a shave" way) and his eyes were a piercing dark color that she couldn't make out from the nearly infra-red light.

She watched the way his eyes skipped about the crowd, resting on her for a moment before moving on (although she wasn't drunk enough to not notice the way his eyes passed along her cleavage, which earned a giggle).

She felt somebody nestle in behind her, and felt hot breath on her neck. She looked up behind her to see a darkly handsome man, with flawlessly smooth skin the color of caramel and deep brown eyes.

"Well, hellloo, precious." he purred, and she melted like goo at his smokey voice.

"Hi yourself." she whispered, as his eyes glittered dangerously. He grinned, all sharp canines, then directed them out onto the dance floor.

The noise was louder here, too much for much conversation to take place (although most people on the floor didn't really _care_; conversation was the last thing in their minds.)

She felt sluggish, slow...she didn't understand what was affecting her so much. His arms around her were strong and hard, one hand resting just below her breasts (thumb along her cleavage) and one right over her navel, his fingers pointing down towards her core. She felt his hard body along her back, and arched into him, feeling the slight response against her arse.

"A pretty little thing like you needs a _real_ man, like me." he said again, his voice cutting through the pulsating music. He put his lips to her neck, and she felt his tongue working at her skin with a tingle; suddenly the world spun, and she felt herself flush, her nipples hardening and core moistening. It felt heavy, like a good hard liqueur shot settling in the pit of her stomach, leaving her feeling gloriously drunk. She arched her neck back, breathing in reedily as she bared more of her throat to him.

Her logical mind was slow in responding as the tall, dark, handsome and _dangerous_ man began edging them towards the doors. They broke apart at the exit, just enough to pass through the one-wide door, and he slid one arm around her shoulders, whispering in her ear (although she didn't really know what he was saying) and periodically touching against her ear lobes with his tongue; she felt a fresh flush of warmth each time he did so, and any resistance she might have had to leaving with him was dying away with each lick and nibble.

She heard a strident, fierce voice from about 20 feet behind them as she walked with this new friend (lover?) she'd found. **"Hands off the girl."**

The man behind her snorted, and without turning scoffed at the person interrupting them. "Go find your own bit o' flesh, mate."

"**I said Hands. Off. The. Girl. Fangs."**

She felt the man turn, and she saw his eyes go wide, then fill with blackness. "Dresden! It's none of your concern who she goes with, precious...and I suggest you leave before I take it out on you...or her..." he said, purring the last words. She saw the stranger's eyes flare brightly, like a red flame.

"Chicago is now Red Court Off-limits, "mate". Your hunting rights are _over_. That was the agreement after the fiasco with Duke Ortega."

"Then I'm not here for the Courts, you bahstahd. I'm here for m'self." the man said, sending chills through her sluggish and molasses-like mind.

"Then I end you right here and now, and the Courts don't dare say a peep." the stranger's voice suddenly harshened, and echoed oddly.

The man beside her snarled, in a rage, and she suddenly felt very frightened; she backed away slowly as the skin of the man fell away, revealing a flabby, loose-skinned creature with a face like a bat. She screamed shrilly, and she saw more clearly the person who had stopped them; the bloke with the duster, but in his hand, instead of a gun, was a thick rod of wood; its end was lit a hellish red, and she could see in the red light that he was snarling himself. The sharp scent of sulfur filled the air.

The creature that had moments ago been escorting her to Merlin-knows-where streaked forward, almost too fast to see, but a barked "Fuego!" was all it took for the tip of that wooden rod to spew flames, catching the bat-like creature alight like a flamethrower. The creature screeched, and flailed forward, but soon enough fell to the ground, still burning...the flames licked at its now skeletal form...

She turned, falling to her knees, and vomited, bent over and heaving. She felt a pounding on the ground (through the pounding in her head) that resolved into footsteps. She felt a warm, dry hand pulling her hair back along her spine, felt him rubbing gently on her back as he whispered encouragingly.

"Get it all out, sweetie. It's okay, you'll be alright."

She finally stopped heaving, and he got up, helping her to her feet. She looked up at him with half-lidded eyes and through the haze that still permeated her body, saw that he looked at her with eyes that weren't lustful or hungry, but kind and concerned. She heard another approach, and turned to see a tiny blonde lady in dark casual clothing running up.

"Everything okay here, Dresden?"

"Yea. He was taking her out of here, and I had to move."

"I'll say you did." the blonde said, hard blue eyes falling on the burnt mass on the ground. "Red Court?"

"Yeah. He claimed to be not affiliated, which means he was a rogue. They won't say a thing, especially with our Chicagoblanca agreement."

"Good. I don't need a gang war of vampires around here. Enough gang wars going on. Alright, are you okay, sweetie? I'm with the Chicago PD, my name is Karrin Murphy." she said, approaching Hermione with a gentle smile and showing her badge. She ran her hand along the frightened girl's face, and her thumb pulled down Hermione's eyelid, exposing her eye.

Hermione just stood, too dazed and tired to do much else. She listened to the two talk, rapid-fire.

"She's dilated to hell, Dresden. Just how much of that stuff did he get in her?"

"He didn't bite, so she should be okay. He just juiced her pretty heavily with drool."

"You said you have a cure for it, don't you?'

"Yeah. It's back at my apartment."

"Take her there then. Get her cleaned up and I'll come by for the deposition soon as I can. The bean-counters are gonna _love_ this piece of creative fiction." she said, smirking.

Dresden chuckled, one hand on Hermione's bare shoulder; he felt a slight tingle that he hadn't expected; he'd thought he'd imagined it before. "They always do. Come on, miss. Let's get back to my apartment where you can clean up and we can get you something to take the edge off."

She followed, nodding dully. They went to a little car that appeared to her drug-hazed eyes to be made of different colors; the body looked blue, but the doors were primer grey, the hood white and battered in, and the trunk a bright green.

"The Beetle doesn't look like much, but she's got it where it counts." he said, and she heard a mimicking quality in his voice. "A good mechanic." he continued, smirking. She smiled, a bit confusedly, and he shook his head in concern, helping her into the side seat. She noticed that the seats weren't stock car seats; they appeared to be lashed together out of crates, wire, and some old cushions and upholstery.

The drive to his place was blurry and indistinct to her; she hadn't felt this messed up since the attempted rape she'd experienced a year ago. Back then, the bastard had dosed her with GHB, and only Sally had saved her from going off with him that time. She mournfully thought about what Sally would say to her for going to a place like Gothique all alone.

"What's your name, miss?" he said, his baritone voice soothing.

"Hermi'ne Grang'r." she mumbled, leaning against the door and feeling the wind of their passage through the open windows, enjoying the cool breeze on her sweating face. She closed her eyes, but what seemed like only a few moments later, he was opening the side door and leaning down, picking her up bridal-style and carrying her down the stairs into a basement apartment; she snuggled into his arms unconsciously. He unlocked the door, and held his hand against it for a second; she felt the release of magic as _something_ unlocked.

She almost panicked for a moment, wondering where the hell he was taking her, but relaxed after he kicked the door open (and blocked a big cat with one foot, nudging him back in) when she saw that the place looked homey and patchwork, like an old quilt; not quite the bachelor sex suite she was fearing.

A small kitchenette attached to the main room had an old-fashioned wood-burning stove and oven. The floor was bare concrete, though it was covered with a hodge-podge of different colored and patterned rugs; faux persian mixed with Navajo and fuzzy shag. There was a rack near the doorway, with a large holstered revolver, a nearly-7 foot tall stick carved with runes, a sheath cane with a long handle, similarly covered in runes, and a long, smooth bamboo cane with a slight curve to it, katakana carved into the hilt, was mounted over the fireplace.

Were she more conscious, she would have labelled him as _eccentric_.

He set her down on a faded, second or third-hand couch, and she looked up at him, eyes blinking dully.

"Hold on a second, and I'll grab that cure for you. You look a bit juiced up right now." he said, murmuring the last part. He headed over to one particular rug, and pulled it back, revealing a wooden trap door that he pulled up and stepped through. She was filled with a vague sense of curiosity, wondering exactly what lay through that trapdoor; a lab, a storage room, maybe even a fully-equipped dungeon?

She used his absence to study the rest of the room. There was a door leading to what looked like a bedroom (or more appropriately, a closet disguised as a bedroom) and what she thought was a bathroom off that. The walls around the main living area were _covered_ in bookshelves, and the shelves were straining with the weight of the variety of paperbacks, hard-covers, and even sheaves of paper pieced together from ruined bindings. She tried to get up to study them, drawn to the books, but her knees gave out on her and she thumped back onto the couch, feeling dizzy; she put one hand to her head, holding it up against the sudden weight it carried.

One other thing she noticed; the place looked_ spotless_. Like someone had pulled up the rugs and scrubbed the concrete, arranged the books alphabetically, scrubbed the walls, stove, and counters, beaten the rugs out and covered them in pine smell, just this morning. A large cat (and being the owner of a large cat herself, she could say definitively that this was a _large cat)_ with extensive facial battle scars and a bob tail came padding over to her, jumping up beside her and inspecting her; he made himself comfortable on her lap and she sat back, stroking his thick fur calmly as he purred like a motorcycle engine. The motion was weighing her down; she felt muzzy and tired, and leaned her head back on the couch, closing her eyes.

"Here you go, miss." he said, as he strode up the ladder from his basement hatch, drawing her attention again. She wondered again briefly what he had down there; storage, pantry, fully-stocked dungeon...then she flushed at the thought of the last as her brain caught up.

He held a cloth, thick and wet, out to her; she took it and looked at him curiously. "Wha?"

"Clean off wherever he licked you. It'll burn like hell but you'll start feeling clear-headed sooner, that stuff stays on the skin until it's washed off." he said, sitting down on a chair nearby, leaning his elbows on his knees and watching her with concern.

She took the cloth to her neck and immediately felt the burn; he hadn't been lying, as it burnt like fiendfyre, but she instantly began to feel clear-minded again. She got everywhere he'd kissed and licked her, and felt revulsion begin to take over from the pleasant muzzy-headed feeling she'd had before.

Just what had _done_ this to her?

"Ogh." she said, covering her eyes from the candles and the banked fire that looked too bright now. "What the hell happened to me?"

"Vampire. A rogue, it looks like. The Red Court won't try any power plays in _my_ town anymore, not after Casaverde."

The words hadn't seemed to go together for her rightly; she only put together a few.

"Vampire? He didn't look like one at all. The only one I ever met was rather pale, and had red eyes. He was rather a decent bloke too."

"Then you haven't met a Red before. They're nasty critters. They have that flesh mask that looks appealing on the outside, and their eyes have a subtle hypnotic quality...but once they go full-vamp, they really don't look human anymore. Greasy bat-faced bastards." he said, murmuring the last.

He got up, heading for the fridge-er, icebox, it seemed. "You want a drink?" he said, looking at her.

"I could use one to get the taste out of my mouth. No alcohol, please."

"It's just a Coke." he said, grabbing two cans and walking back over, handing her one, unopened.

"Could you...open it? I...don't think I can." she said, and he saw her hands shaking uncontrollably. He smiled, and popped the top, then put the can in her hands, holding it firmly against her fingers until he knew she could hold on; his hands were warm and dry, despite the cold, damp, can. She first pressed it against her neck where it was still burning, and felt that subside, then against her forehead which felt flushed and hot. She then took a long drink, and sighed, sitting back and petting the cat again, closing her eyes against the rather dim candle-light.

"He must like you. He usually doesn't take to people that easily." he said, sitting back in his own chair and taking a long gulp of Coke, inspecting the young woman who lounged on his couch.

"I've got one at home. Big furball. This one's bigger though. Is it part-kneazle?" she said, her voice low and tired.

"Kn-what?"

"Kneazle. Magical cat. Don't you know?"

"Never heard of it."

"I thought you were a wizard? I mean, you hit that vampire with enough fire..." she asked confusedly.

"I am one. Name's Harry Dresden."

"It's you! You were on Larry Fowler. And I saw your name...in the...phone book." she said, trailing off. "What did the ICW have to say about that?"

"The ICwhat? What are you talking about?" he said, eyebrow lifted.

"The International Confederation of Wizards. If you know about magic, but are telling muggles about it..."

"Nobody's bothered me about it before. I've been in this town for years, advertising as a wizard. And what's a muggle?"

"Weird." she said, leaning back again; she'd leaned forward at her last outburst. He sat for a few moments waiting for answers, but none seemed forthcoming.

"So your name is Hermione Granger. Where do you live?"

"Hyde Park."

"U of C?"

She looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Yea. How did you..."

"I've got some friends who go there, and I know the area pretty well. Hyde Park is full of U of C students and alums. My friends' names are Billy Borden and his girlfriend, Georgia."

"I've met them in the Library before."

"They're werewolves."

"Didn't know that. I knew they felt feral...like a were I knew. Where do they hole up for the Moon in a city like this?" she asked, looking confused.

"Why would they need to? They're not Loup Garou, or anything. They transform when they want to, and they keep their minds."

"Hmm. The only were I knew back in England had to hole up so he didn't kill or infect people at the full moon."

"That's...weird. Maybe a different variety of werewolf? I mean, Bob told me he knew about them all, but clearly you're talking about something different. Maybe he was just lying. Billy and Georgia are just shapeshifters. They can change from wolf to human, back again. They're pretty good at it by now. They've had about 2 years to figure it out."

"So they're more akin to Animagus?" she asked, curious about these different terms.

He snorted again. "It must be that you're British, with all sorts of fancy words for things."

She huffed indignantly, but the twinkle of laughter in his eyes almost forced her to relax, and even giggle a bit and look down, avoiding his eyes.

"Sorry. It's just been...a long day."

"I can see. How's your head, feeling any better?"

"Getting there. How long does that stuff last?"

"The actual effects in the body don't last for all that long...but it generally keeps refreshing until it's washed off, and it's a bitch to get off."

"I noticed." she said dryly, and he chuckled.

"You'll have to sleep for a while to get the rest out of your system."

The door rattled as it was opened, and the blonde woman stepped through, clutching a little amulet, bound in various leathers and rawhide with a feather and some beads hanging off.

"Oh, good. You're here." she said hurriedly, stepping over quickly and sitting on one of the stuffed chairs, putting away the key and an odd little amulet into her purse. She had another handbag in one hand.

"Miss, my name is Karrin Murphy, and I'm a Detective Lieutenant of the Chicago PD. I run a division called Special Investigations. And I'm going to be writing a _lot_ of creative fiction about today's events, so just let me know what happened." she said, all in one breath. Dresden chuckled, then started laughing heartily, and Hermione giggled. Karrin glared at Dresden, but gave Hermione a reassuring smile.

"O-okay. I'll t-try my best."

"Wherever you want to start." Karrin said, pulling out a pen and notebook. "Oh, and I found your handbag. I think he dropped it, so you wouldn't have identification or money. It also had your...implement in it." Murphy said, shooting Dresden a look.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed, reaching in and rummaging to make sure she had everything. With a satisfied sigh, she looked up at Karrin.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I'm 23, 24 on September 19th. This is the third or fourth time I went to Gothique. I usually go with a friend of mine, Sally Clyde. Oh, she's going to be so angry I went on my own." she murmured, and Karrin gave her a scolding look. "I usually go to clubs with Sally, which paid off a while back when I got hit by GHB and she kept me from going with the guy. That one should be on record." she said in an embarrassed tone, and Karrin nodded subtly.

"Anyways, I got a drink, danced with a half dozen guys for a few hours total, having probably 4 or 5 drinks total; I was tipsy, not drunk. All from the bar, not handed me by anybody but the bartender.

"I'd just got my Bloody Maria-"

"Bloody Maria?"

"Bloody Mary with Tequila instead of Vodka."

"Ahh. Carry on." Another glance between Dresden and Murphy.

"I got my drink and I was looking around for another guy to dance with. I saw Mr. Dresden, although I didn't recognize him at the time. I just saw that he was very tall and dark-haired, and was wearing his coat."

"That damn thing is pretty comfortable." Murphy said, and Dresden squawked indignantly.

"Hmm." she said, grinning. "Anyways..." she trailed off, feeling her heart rate rise, and feeling the first feelings of panic. "I felt th-this guy step up from behind me. H-he wrapped his arms around me, and I turned my head to look at him...he just felt so _good _around me, and his breath on my neck was..." she stopped, shuddering in revulsion.

"Please, honey. It's alright. Just tell it how it is."

"He whispered to me, I don't really remember what we talked about, and we got out on the dance floor. I know I got a bit dirty with him, because he felt so good...and just...he kissed my neck, and the instant his tongue hit me, everything gets really fuzzy."

"It's called the Kiss. It's a narcotic saliva that they use to single out prey." Dresden said quietly, getting a shudder from Hermione and an angry glare from Karrin.

"Enough of that, Dresden, or get out. Keep going, Hermione." she said, harshly at first but softening for Hermione.

"We...we started walking out. I-I think i-in my logical mind, I was thinking I shouldn't do it, that I wasn't planning on going home with anybody...b-but...well, I think my libido was on autopilot. I just went along with him, it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

"We got outside, and were walking Merlin-knows-where" Karrin gave Dresden a strange look, and he shrugged, confused as she was "and I heard Mr. Dresden, again I didn't recognize him at the time. I was a bit too out of it to remember the words, and all I remember is that the guy behind me turned to look at Mr. Dresden...and got mad. He pushed me out of the way, and I backed up further when he tore his way out of his skin, and I saw...oh, God." she wailed, rubbing her face with her hands, tears streaming down and marring her makeup. "I saw what looked like a giant h-human b-bat."

"That's their real form. They use the outer skin to hide among crowds." Karrin said softly, trying to prod Hermione into continuing.

"Well, he charged at Mr. Dresden...and Mr. Dresden hit it with fire, or something. It clung to the creature, and he just burned away, like a torch. I don't remember screaming, but I know I fell to the ground, and vomited. I felt Mr. Dresden come over, and he held my hair up, and rubbed my back until I was done. Then he got me to my feet, and you came over."

Karrin smiled encouragingly. "Good, sweetie. That's great. That's all the information I needed. You've done so well, sweetie. Now, you should get yourself cleaned up, and get out of this dress. You should fit my clothes, at least close enough, so let me get my bag from my car. I'd like to suggest you stay here for the night."

"Really, it's no trouble..."

"Hun, it's nearly 2am. You need sleep, and I don't want you falling asleep on the way. Anyways, I'd like to check your apartment out to make sure nobody is waiting for you."

Hermione just nodded, looking uncertainly at Dresden.

He smiled, and strode towards his room. "You can have the bed. I'll take the couch. The bathroom is off the bedroom, and you can lock it if you want. I'll just grab clothes and Mickey Mouse."

Murphy took Hermione's hand reassuringly. "He's a gentleman. He won't try anything, and frankly, this is the safest place in Chicago."

Hermione smiled, and nodded once again.

"Let me go grab some clothes for you for tomorrow. Dresden can sacrifice a t-shirt and shorts for you, I'm sure."

"You two are friends, aren't you?"

"Yep. It was rocky at first to work with him, but the results speak for themselves. My cases with him always end up wonky, and I fear for my sanity sometimes, but he's let me in on everything, and has put his own life on the line once or twice. Or three times, or four..." she said, grinning. Hermione chuckled.

"Sounds like my best friend in Britain. Also named Harry. He's the same sort...he'll put his life on the line for his friends, even for people he doesn't like. This'll be the second Harry I owe my life to."

"I'd like to hear _that_ story sometime." Dresden said, coming out of the bedroom. "Go ahead, take a shower and get some rack time. Here's some clothes to sleep in."

She took them and nodded, then, at first uncertainly, reached up and hugged him. "Thanks. Thank you so much." she whispered against his chest. He patted her back comfortingly, and smiled. "Good night. See you tomorrow."

Harry and Karrin watched as the girl walked into the bedroom and closed the door behind her; Harry felt a slight flicker of power as she did some sort of locking spell.

"She's in dire need of help." he said, frowning. Karrin nodded.

"Yeah. I did some snooping, found out about that Sally Clyde girl from the club bouncers; I found her number in her handbag and gave her a call. She was furious that Granger had gone to the club alone, and wasn't at all surprised that she'd been hit with what I called date rape drugs for the ease of explanation."

"You knew, then."

"Yeah. I did a quick search on her name in the system, found it in connection with that case. I know Rawlins. Stand-up dude, worked with my dad. Real fatherly figure. He said, when I called him, after calling me unmentionable names for waking him up at 2am, that he gave her a stern talking to about her extracurriculars. I guess it didn't take." Murphy said, with a sad chuckle at the end.

"Girl tries to do things like this, and I would tend to suggest that she has a lot of issues."

"You'd be a chauvinist for saying it, but you'd also be right. I don't have many records before her entry into the US; and I mean nothing of real substance. She got her GED in New York state, applied to U of C, and started there September of 01. Her last complete records from across the pond are her primary school exit exams, where she did quite well; read, top 1%. Then she's only listed as going to a private school for 7 years, then working in the British government. And I mean, that's it. No details, no grades...she has a passport and a driver's license, and a driver's license for here. Her immigration to the States was all above-board."

"She's a green-carder then?"

"No, full immigration. Britain expatriate. Not sure how _that _happened, usually only people with a position waiting for them get a quick transition. Her financials look good, but again, I don't have records on _where_ the money comes from, just an untraceable Swiss account." Murphy said, looking annoyed.

"An enigma."

"Wrapped in a puzzle, covered in the British flag. I'd like to get her talking to a counselor, and I'm honestly surprised she hasn't been already. She's likely got some trauma in her past, considering the situations she puts herself into, and did you _see_ the scar on her arm?"

"Vaguely. It looks like it's been covered with a skin graft, maybe she even covered it with some magic. I'd say etched in with a knife." he said, knowing quite well what a knife scar looks like, especially one deliberately written on the skin. Not sure what "mudblood" means, but that's what it said. She looks like she could use some sleep."

"I hope she gets some." Harry said wistfully, looking at the closed door.

"Alright. I'm going home. I'll be back tomorrow, or rather, today, to help get her home, check her apartment and all that. Then I've got to get a report in to SI on the predator we stopped."

"I'll get her up soonest tomorrow, but considering it's 2am, it may be a bit. I'll make breakfast here."

"You charmer, you." she said, smirking.

"Hey. I believe that everybody deserves a good breakfast. Especially with coffee."

"You would." she said. "Alright, leaving. Call me if anything comes up."

"Will do. 'Night Karrin."


	3. Chapter 2

AN: I'll continue posting the chapters up to my little booboo as I'm rewriting those parts. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter 2: Tears of Morpheus

* * *

Harry woke way too damned early in the morning to an ear-shattering scream from his bedroom. He stumbled to his feet, rushing to the door; he pushed his magic into the door lock, and felt some sort of locking spell - he pushed on it, pulling at its bindings, and felt it unravel with a _pop_ of wild magic, then slammed open the door.

She lay on the bed, arched rigid with her neck tendons in a rictus, screaming, again and again. Her whole body shook with...something, probably pain from the tone of her screams. A happy dream wouldn't produce that sort of terror, or pain.

She sagged into the bed, still shuddering, and started sobbing, begging. "Pleeeeasse...I don't KNOWWWW!" she screamed again, stiffening and sagging again, crying out that she "didn't know" over and over.

"Hell with it." he muttered, and sat into the bed next to her, at the head end, and pulled her up partially into his lap. She clutched at him tightly, burying her head in his chest, sobbing horribly.

She clutched at him for nearly a half hour, crying, while he rubbed her back gently and ran his hands over her scalp and through her surprisingly thick hair soothingly, until finally she relaxed, and looked up.

"H-hi. I hope I d-didn't wake you up." she whispered, trying not to enjoy the warmth of his arms as she sniffled.

He chuckled "S'alright. You obviously weren't _enjoying_ it. Like to talk about it?"

"Er...I'd prefer not."

"Hey, now. You can tell me, or you can talk to a shrink."

He heard her murmur "_Damn it._ Fine. I...I was remembering something out of my past."

"What happened?" he asked, looking down at her.

"I-I was t-tortured. By a psychopath. They thought I had something they wanted. She w-wrote on my a-arm, and tortured me with a curse. It was sooo much pain. I thought I was g-going to d-die. I _knew_ I was going to die."

He held her tighter, rubbing her back gently, as she shuddered.

"I can still feel the curse when I have nightmares. S-she...she's dead so I know it's silly..."

"Not at all. I'll tell you some day about a nightmare that actually _hurt_ me."

"Why not now?" she said, her bright cinnamon-brown eyes gazing up at him, still glistening with tears, but red-rimmed with lack of sleep.

"I'd like you to actually get some sleep." he whispered, chuckling. She gave him a small smile, and curled up in his arms before he could get up. When he thought she was asleep, and tried to slip out of bed, she whimpered and pulled him in tighter, preventing him from getting away. He sighed, then slid further under the covers in his sleep pants and t-shirt and pulled her tighter into his chest, dozing off.

* * *

The incessant patting of a feline paw, coupled with a loud purring, slowly woke Hermione out of a (for once) restful sleep. She murmured "Go 'way, Crooks." but the batting continued.

She finally opened one eye, and instead of the usual rumpled orange fur and squashed face of Crookshanks, she saw a gray calico with fierce battle scars on his face, and no tail to flick about.

"Er...hi. Are you trying to get me up?" she whispered, only then noticing the warm arms around her and the sleeping man beneath/beside her.

"Oh! You're wanting to wake _him_ up." she said, grinning despite herself.

"Throw him out the door and go back to sleep." she heard, murmured against her hair.

"He seems rather determined."

"He is." Harry said, sliding his arm out from underneath her and stretching as he sat up. He glared at Mister, who looked unconcerned but batted Harry's face, then took off for the kitchen.

"Little bastard." Harry murmured."Language!" Hermione scolded, swatting his arm.

"Hey! My apartment, I can swear if I want to."

"Oh, fine." she huffed, but giggled a bit. Harry looked over, and saw it was nearly 8:30.

"Shit-er, crap. She'll be here in a few-"

He heard the door open. The doorway that led into the apartment was almost on a direct line to the doorway of his bedroom, and he saw Murphy, all 5 foot of her, bristling in fury when she saw Harry curled up with Hermione.

"_Dresden..._" she said through clamped teeth.

"Karrin, it's fine. It's my fault." Hermione said, getting up and straightening out her sleep clothes, which had bunched up a bit. "I had a nightmare, and Harry was kind enough to help me get back to sleep."

"He'd better have been a gentleman." Murphy said, her teeth gritted.

"Perfectly." Hermione said, with a steady stare at Murphy.

"Fine. Dresden, get up and cook so we can get her home." Murphy said, then stalked off to the couch.

"Hmm. She looks angry."

"Why?"

"She threatened me last night about being gentlemanlike with you. I'd imagine that's what it's about."

"Ahh." she said, smirking. "Thanks. I slept better because of you." She pecked his cheek, then got up and bounced towards the shower, grabbing her handbag and the clothes Murphy had given her.

Harry stumbled out of his room, still clad in his sleep pants. Murphy, despite her 5 foot stature, grabbed him and pushed him against a wall with a thump.

"_So help me, Dresden_...we talked last night. What the _hell_ was that about?"

"She had a violent nightmare. I thought she was gonna fall off the damn bed, or snap a vertebra. What was I supposed to do, sit there and let her _scream_?"

Murphy's fury died away as she sighed. "No, I suppose not. What brought it about?"

"I don't feel comfortable talking about it without her permission." he mumbled, then set off to the kitchenette to start breakfast, grabbing a half dozen eggs out of the ice box, along with bacon, bread, and the other morning breakfast staples. He also put the percolator on. Karrin sat on the couch again, watching him carefully.

He heard the shower stop, and only a few minutes later, Hermione strode out of his room, dressed in the clothes Karrin had donated to her. They fit pretty well, actually, even though Hermione was taller and a bit fuller than Karrin; they didn't know she'd used some tailoring charms to adjust them when she put them on.

"That was fast." Harry said, from the stove.

"Drying charms, and a few hygiene charms. Quick and simple. And can't you get some hot water?"

"Sounds handy. Usually I gotta do everything the slow way. And no, hot water heaters blow up in my apartment." Harry said, looking intrigued at the thought of spells for hygiene.

"You should have learned them at your magical school..." she said, looking at Harry curiously.

"Apprenticed. A bad master at first, then a good one, but a traditionalist. And we didn't cover personal hygiene using magic."

"That's...odd. Are you _sure_ there won't be trouble with the ICW about this?"

"Only the three of us know. Are _you_ going to report it?" Karrin again had to wonder why she was worried about it.

"Er...no. Of course not. I'd be culpable."

"Then don't worry about it. I'm gonna have to make up a bunch of crap anyways for my reports. You should probably think of a cover story anyways, for norms. I suggest that you were dosed with GHB again, and Harry stopped the guy as he was leaving with you, but in the ensuing scuffle he got away."

"Simple and easy. Apart from the embarrassment of having that happen again." she said, blushing.

"I already talked to your friend Sally, so she's heard that story already."

"You _told_ her?"

"I had to ask around and figure out who your friends were, mostly to let them know you were okay."

"And to gather information on me, I'd wager. How much did you learn? What gaps in my past are you curious about?" Hermione blurted, glaring at Karrin, with her hair frizzing slightly from the excess energy building up. Murphy could see the energy buildup as a visible aura, but kept talking smoothly and calmly, having dealt with Harry in a rage before; her voice stayed even and soothing.

"Relax, miss. All I did was take a look at the official records. I did see the previous situation with GHB, the responding officer is actually a friend of mine. Although I'd be interested in knowing what school you went to after Primary in Britain."

"And _I. Can't. Tell. You._ I'd be in even _more _trouble if someone found out." she muttered, her aura flaring even more. Harry stepped behind her and placed his left hand on her bare shoulder next to the tank-top strap, and she felt the excess energy drain out of her, calming her down perceptibly as she sighed, her breath wobbling. Harry discharged the power from his right hand, against the stone of the wall with a sparkle of static.

"You need to calm down." he whispered, close to her ear. She shivered a tiny bit at the feel of his breath on her sensitive ear. _Honestly. I just can't control myself when a man does that, can I?_

Karrin watched the two suspiciously, but when no more intimate behavior was forthcoming, she sat down on one of the chairs at the tiny kitchen table. "The eggs are about to burn." she said, looking at the pan. Harry rushed over and saved them, then finished up breakfast, while the two women glared at each other, each irritated at the other.

He shook his head as he walked over with three plates, full of eggs, bacon, toast, and sausage.

"Eat up, then we can get you home." he said, giving the pair a Look. Karrin dug in quickly, eating efficiently and expeditiously. Hermione took a taste, and was surprised. "Pretty good." she mumbled through a mouthful of sausage and egg, and Harry grinned.

"For a man, you mean?"

"Oh, no. My Harry from Britain is actually an _amazing_ cook. Nothing to do with gender at all. Maybe it's the name."

"Hmmph." Harry said, smirking as he dug into his pile of food. _I'm just lucky the brownies left us with the right things for breakfast. That week of nothing but Frosted Flakes could have made them give me weird looks._

* * *

Harry was in the shower and dressing, while the two women cleaned the dishes.

"Karrin?"

"Hmm?"

"You aren't...er, _with_ him, are you?"

"Dresden? Oh, God, no. I _can't_ do serious. And Dresden can do nothing but. Although I have a sneaking suspicion he had some sort of steamy, short-lived romance a few months ago, but nothing concrete."

"Alright then. I was curious about why you were angry with him earlier. And with me." Hermione eyed Murphy suspiciously.

Karrin sighed, setting a plate down and picking up another as she dried it. "To be brutally honest, I _was_ worried about both of you. Harry normally has a will of iron, but...he's more fragile than he seems. He lives all alone here, except for that cat. He gets the worst sort of cases imaginable, and sees some of the worst things possible. In the end, though, nothing ever seems to go his way."

"And for me?" Hermione was curious about what wasn't going his way, but didn't ask. Not yet.

"Despite his will of iron, no man is immune to a beautiful young woman inviting him into her bed. I knew intellectually that he wouldn't do that with you so soon after a traumatic experience on your part, but the fact is I was worried you had tricked him or something. That you couldn't help yourself. Honey, I think you need to see someone. A counselor, a shrink, somebody. This is the second time you've been preyed upon by a predator, and this time was far more serious...you could have been killed, or worse, kept as a food source." Hermione shuddered violently, closing her eyes tightly. "In fact, that was the likely scenario if he got you away. You wouldn't have denied him or argued...and in fact, you'd feel eager for whatever he wanted. That's what the Kiss _does_. Harry knows it all too well. Ask him some time, when you get to know him better. And when you don't think he'll blow up at you."

"Oh." Hermione said, deep in thought. Karrin took pity on her though.

"Look, I'm not saying that he's off limits, or that you shouldn't be his friend at the very least. Just...handle him with kid gloves, okay?"

"I will. And Karrin...you're right. I need to talk to somebody. I just...don't even know where to begin. I don't know of anybody with the right training who could deal with somebody like me..."

"A wizard, you mean."

"We refer to it as witch for the female, but yes." Murphy raised an eyebrow, remembering Dresden say the exact opposite, but let it go for now.

"That's definitely a hard question. Maybe at the moment, it's enough to talk to Harry. He can probably understand your problems better than some of us. And I'm always available for a call, or a chat. I'm busy with work, but I understand that sometimes your problems don't have convenient schedules."

"Thanks. I really appreciate it. Both the save and the advice."

"No problem, hon. We women got to stick up for each other." Karrin said, smirking.

* * *

The three pulled up to the apartment building in Hyde Park, garnering looks from passers by as a towering man in a black leather duster got out of the tiny Saturn coupe, then two much smaller young women got out as well. His staff was likely drawing more attention, but if they ran into any Reds he wanted the firepower. Hermione had her fingers on her wand handle, hidden in her bag at the moment; she wasn't sure what she could do to a "Red" but wouldn't be caught unawares again.

They took the stairs up to her place, after a brief look from Karrin to Harry that had Hermione wondering.

Harry and Karrin looked in first, prodding the door open with his staff. They proceeded to check her flat thoroughly, and finding nothing but what should be there (including her large orange tom, Crookshanks), relaxed.

Hermione sat down at her cozy little kitchen table; she had a slightly larger flat than Harry's basement apartment (apart from his dungeon/lab/pantry, which she'd never actually gotten to see.) She looked over at her phone and answering machine, and saw that she had a handful of messages already.

"Crud. Sally's already probably called me. Over and over. And she was likely watching for me to arrive, so she should be here in 5, 4, 3, 2..."

The door banged open, and both Dresden and Murphy whirled, not aiming their weapons but surprised by the entry.

The girl that entered, pale with raven-dark hair and dark purple eyes, was made up with dark eyeliner and mascara. She wore all black; a black t-shirt with some sort of pithy slogan that Harry refused to focus on over her breasts, strappy black jeans with a lot of pockets, and black sneakers.

"_Hermione Jean Granger!_ Where the _hell_ have you been since yesterday!"

"Sally, please. I'm not in the mood for it at the moment."

Sally noticed the two others in the room, and quickly settled down. "You'd be Karrin Murphy, yes? We talked this morning."

"That's right. I appreciate your help."

"Oh, it's no problem. I appreciate you letting me know that she was okay...she hadn't answered any calls. I didn't think she'd go off to a club like that herself, the _foolish girl_."

"Sally!" Hermione said, shocked at her friend.

"Don't you start with me, missy. I should put you over my knee." she said threateningly. Karrin covered her mouth with a snort, and Harry had a sudden coughing fit. Hermione couldn't decide if it was laughter or surprise, but blushed at the thought; _Sally didn't bluff_.

"Harry Dresden, Karrin Murphy, this is Sallindra Clyde. She's been my best friend since I moved here, until the unfortunate incident tomorrow where she will be smothered with a pillow..."

"Harry, is it? Is this the..."

"No, Sally. This one I just met. And he saved my life." she said, smiling a bit dreamily. Sally caught the look and wondered just what the hell had happened.

"Well, Mr. Dresden...hmm, weren't you on TV recently? Thanks for helping her. She clearly needed the help if her common sense didn't do the job for her."

"No problem, Miss Clyde. Hermione, it's been a pleasure meeting you. Murph, we should get going." Harry said, with his best "business-like" persona.

"Hmm. Let's get moving. Miss Granger, here's my card. Call me if you ever need to talk."

"Here's mine as well. You're free to stop by and visit whenever, as well. Either my office or home."

Hermione stood, and pulled him into a big hug. "Thanks again. I owe you one." she whispered into his chest. She felt him hug back genuinely, but only briefly before he gently pressed her away. She turned and grabbed Murphy, pulling her into her own hug.

"Thanks."

"No problem. Call me when you're not in a crisis situation sometime."

"I will."

Once the hugs and goodbyes had been exchanged, and the odd couple that had saved her life and turned it upside down were gone, Sally turned to her.

"Now, spill. What the _hell_ happened to you?"

Hermione told everything. Sally was the _only_ person she had ever told the accurate story of her life, magic and all. Sally wasn't in on the secret of magic "officially", but she was pretty well clued in to the magical world by her friendships with a number of practitioners and hedge-magi, and from Hermione's stories.

"So it was a Red Court Vampire?" she asked, as Hermione finished with the attack.

"That's what Harry and Karrin said. When it transformed..." she said, shuddering. Sally wrapped her arms around her friend, cradling her against her shoulder.

"No more clubbing for us for a while, my dear." she said once she'd released Hermione. The shaky nod she got in return was all she needed to see.

"What happened after that? Those hugs looked a little too intimate for someone who only saved your life and held your hair while you puked."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "He took me back to his place. I was still really heavily doped, I don't remember the ride at all. I do remember his car, a battered old VW bug."

"Hmm. Probably the only thing he can keep running for any length of time. If what I've heard about Dresden is true, he's crazy powerful, and that kind of power tends to ruin electronics, and even electric lines."

"He has this nice little cozy basement apartment. I could _feel_ the wards around the place, and they were _strong_. He gave me a cloth with something on it when we got back there. The cloth burned like hell when it touched wherever that creature licked me, but my head got clearer. We talked for a while until Karrin got there, and she asked me about what happened."

"It's not going to let out the secret, is it?" Sally asked, concerned for her friend.

"She said she'd do a bit of creative writing. I imagine the story will be more in line with what she told you over the phone last night."

"Everybody in _the know_ around Chicago knows Karrin Murphy. She's a bit of an avenging angel among the practitioners."

"After that, he gave me his bed and he slept on the couch. I took an ice cold shower and jumped into bed, thankfully he gave me a t-shirt and some shorts. I'll tell you something...as I fell asleep, I felt _really_ comfortable. His scent was all over the bed, and it was very nice.

"I woke up a few hours later, and he was cradling me. I apparently woke him and probably everybody else in the boarding house up with my screaming. I had the Bellatrix nightmare again." she said, and Sally sighed, rubbing her hand over her face.

"I told you to talk to somebody about those nightmares."

"Who am I going to talk to, Dr. Ruth the Wizard psychologist?" Hermione scoffed.

"Fair point. Just try to find somebody who you can talk to. I'm too close to you for professional."

"Anyways, he was comforting me. I told him, in general terms, about the dream, and he just held me tighter. I fell asleep again, and I was wrapped around him. I have a vague memory of him trying to get up once I'd fallen asleep, or seemingly had, but he couldn't get away." Hermione said, giggling.

Sally laughed, and hugged her friend again, thankful she was alive, but more importantly, thankful she was in good spirits after an attack like that.

"The next thing I know, I had a big furry beast on top of me. His cat was patting my face, trying to wake me up. Harry woke up after I talked to the cat, and just before we both got up, Karrin came in the front door; she could see through the bedroom doorway, and saw us lying together...and she kinda flipped her lid."

"Uh-oh. I didn't think they were..." Sally said, trying to remember how the tiny blonde and the tall dark-haired wizard had interacted.

"We talked later after breakfast, when he was taking a shower. She said she isn't interested in him...or rather, can't be. Not sure I believe it quite yet."

"Hmm, how does that work?"

"I guess she can only do casual, and he can only do serious. There was something weird though."

"Which was?" Sally said, her eyebrow raised lasciviously.

"Nothing like that, you pervert!" Hermione squealed, slapping Sally on the arm, then sobered. "There was a picture in a box in his closet...I was looking for a pair of shorts that fit. He...he had an engagement ring there. Along with love letters. All either undelivered or opened and returned. There was a photo there of him with a Latina woman."

Sally put one hand to her mouth. "Oh. That's so _sad_..."

"Yeah. I didn't have the heart to ask him who she was."

"If it's who I think it is...There were rumors going around at one time that Dresden was seeing Susan Rodriguez, the lady that had a by-line in the Midwestern Arcane. She had some good stories too, probably real events, not the usual Bat Boy claptrap. She had some really incredible footage of a real werewolf, before the powers that be buried the footage, only showing a grainy, staticky version."

"The Arcane, that yellow supernatural rag I caught you reading?"

"Apparently they get real stories more often than not. They just sound crazy. Like the Enquirer."

"So he and her..."

"Something happened to her...about 2 years ago, just around the time of that big fire at Bianca's Velvet Room. She disappeared from town. Her articles got sparser in the paper...then stopped entirely."

"Oh...Merlin, that's sad." Hermione said, slumping against her chair.

"Sweetie...I'm sorry. I didn't..."

"Sally, it isn't your fault. I'm feeling the natural effects of a life debt followed by him taking care of me, and letting myself get my hopes up. I shouldn't have..." She felt tears forming, and felt her despair growing.

Sally knelt in front of her, at eye level. "Hermione, _listen to me_. Despite the fact that he may have been serious about her...she's _not here_. And he is, and _you are_. He still has the ring, buried away in his closet, so she must have rejected it, whether for good reason or not. _She has no claim on him_. And obviously he's at least aware you're a woman."

"Yeah, a crazy, crying slut. Just what I want him to think." Hermione said thickly, tears in her eyes and sniffling.

"Enough of that, or I really _will_ take you over my knee!" Sally said imperiously. Hermione blushed brightly. "It sounds like he genuinely cared for you. He helped you when he didn't have to, and when you had a nightmare, he held you and comforted you until it passed." Sally said, pulling the business cards over to her and looking. She smirked. "Oh, and look at _this_."

Hermione took the card from Sally's hands and inspected it. It was similar to his phone book ad on the front.

_**HARRY DRESDEN — WIZARD**_

_Lost Items Found. Paranormal Investigations._

_Consulting. Advice. Reasonable Rates._

_No Love Potions, Endless Purses, Parties or Other Entertainment_

His office number and address were listed below. She flipped the card, and saw his home number scrawled in a slanted hand on the back. She blushed.

"I'm not saying you need to go out and try to jump his bones. I don't think he'd need that or enjoy that. Well, he probably would at first. But he sounds more like the type to start slow. So start slow. Call him in a day or two, go out for coffee or a friendly dinner. Get to know him. Learn what makes him tick. By the time you're ready to ask him about his old flame, he'll probably either have decided you're a friend and answer, or he'll have put you down as a potential girlfriend and want to clear the air."

Hermione looked at her friend with a bit of awe. "How do you _do_ that?"

"Magic." Sally said, grinning. Hermione grabbed a pillow from the couch and began to pummel her, giggling madly as she set off a pillow war.

* * *

Karrin Murphy drove away from the apartment building in her Saturn, Harry brooding as he hunched over in the seat next to her. She looked over at him, one eyebrow raised.

"What's eating you?"

"Hmmph."

"Sorry, I don't speak Man. You need to actually use words." she said, lying slightly; she'd long ago deciphered the Male language, composed of a series of grunts and context-sensitive gestures. The Male language was a necessary proficiency to hold any position in the Chicago Police Department.

What he'd said was "_I don't want to talk about my love life, especially with _you_._"

He looked over at her and sneered, saying "_It's none of your fucking business._" with his expression.

"That Sally character was...interesting. Kind of cute. I think I understand why Granger got into the club scene she did."

"Hmm." This grunt was more noncommittal, more or less meaning "_I suppose so_" in a distracted tone.

"That whole vampire sexual factor is a huge pain in the _ass_. We have more false alarms for so-called vampire attacks because of it."

"Ermph." ("_I_ really_ don't want to talk about it._")

"This annoyance wouldn't have to do with Susan, would it?"

Her only answer was a growl. ("_Shut the fuck up!_")

"I mean, it couldn't have been easy seeing a young woman nearly-"

"Shut the _fuck_ up, Murphy. Or something's going to happen to your car." he said, looking away and returning to his brooding. She noticed the air conditioner spark a bit, and her radio warbled, but continued running. Hmm, surprisingly direct for him, especially for such a dramatic shift from Male to English.

"Okay, okay." she said, holding her hands up momentarily in defeat. Or success, as she saw it. She had hit the nail on the head. Harry had taken care of the Vampire so nastily because he saw in Hermione what he believed he could have saved Susan from.

Murphy cursed, once again, the bad luck her best friend suffered from. He barely managed to make enough to hold onto his apartment and office, and crawled through acres of shit to do so. His most important cases, the ones that saw him literally _saving the world_, seemed to have no monetary reward whatsoever, and he usually paid the bills with small, simple cases like finding lost items and exorcising houses of poltergeists, or the less than rewarding scutwork he did for the Chicago PD.

His luck with women was the worst. She knew, more or less, the story of Elaine. His first love. The girl he'd grown up with, lost his virginity with...the girl who had attempted to _"kill"_ him at least twice now. The first time, she'd been in thrall of the bastard that had been their former master. The second time...Murphy wasn't sure about that. Elaine had come down on their side in the end, and she'd departed for the West Coast. Murphy had made _sure_ she caught that train.

Then there was Susan. They had a good year or two. Harry was commitment-phobic, and most unusually for a man, he had very good reason. The whole situation with Elaine would sour anybody on women. He now carried a heap of regrets for Susan. For what could have been, for what they could have shared. And in the end, she'd rejected his engagement ring, left town, and she knew he hadn't heard from her in nearly 2 years. Until that whole affair with the Denarians.

Harry had never said anything about what happened, but she knew the pair of them had been locked in his apartment, the wards activated while they rode out an attack by one of the Denarians. She had a suspicion about what had happened, from things she'd put together. She knew Susan was infected; that she could have easily ripped Dresden's throat out in the throes of passion otherwise, and that she'd been doing some heavy-duty lifting, from the destruction she'd seen at the crime scene she'd been called to at the Hilton. She'd accidentally found the coil of silvery rope in the basket near the door once, and when she'd asked what it was doing there, he'd blushed like a tomato and refused to answer.

A clue, Sherlock.

She knew it had been more or less a good-bye for the two. Before, when she'd been gone for 2 years, he'd carried a hell of a torch and run himself into the ground looking for a cure. Following the Sidhe Courts affair and the battle over the Lake, he'd lightened up, finally. The Denarian case had pushed him into darker territory again. They'd probably shared a "romantic" interlude, rope included.

And Susan was out of his life again. Probably never to return.

A tiny part of Murphy, the love-child of her inner romantic and her libido, had cheered when Susan left. Because it meant that Harry was free.

That was the part that had snarled at the two laying in bed together, when she walked in that morning. That was the part that had threatened Dresden with emasculation if anything had happened between the two.

The problem was, most of the time, that part of her mind was pushed way to the back. And her logic had come to the fore. She knew Harry couldn't be anything less than 100% into everything he did. He never under-did _anything._ And she knew from the other part of her brain, the cynical old spinster, that she couldn't do serious again. Not after two failed marriages, two painful heartbreaks. She needed crazy, wild, relatively simple, _safe_ relationships. Where she couldn't be hurt.

In a way, she felt a kinship with the girl she'd only met early this morning. Hermione had felt like a lost soul. Her tendencies to go out and try her damnedest to get raped by creeps in dark clubs had to have a root in her fear of committing to anything fully; she could blame the attempted rapes for her hesitance to get near to anybody. She felt safe in her bad relationships with club-goers, with her one-night stands and quiet interludes in bathrooms or on couches. The older adult part of Karrin, the part that had learned from her mistakes over the years, clucked and scolded the younger woman for her tendency to throw herself into bad situations, but that tiny little part of her that had been the same way at a younger age _completely_ understood the impulses.

For all that the younger girl had seemed to go through in her life, judging from her impulses, actions, and nightmares, she either _hadn't_ learned from them or _refused_ to learn from them.

And now she'd met Harry. And like most people he met, something about her life changed because of his presence.

She hoped this girl wouldn't damage her friend.

Because she'd destroy her.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Idle Hands

* * *

"Another hand?"

"No, thanks, mate. I'm done." Dean said, looking good-naturedly dejected. "All out. Lav is gonna cruciate me if I lose any more money."

"Heh. No problem, Dean. Thanks for coming out." Harry said, clapping a slightly drunken hand on Dean's shoulder.

"Night, mate." Dean said as he stepped out through the floo, a bit wobbly from butterbeer and firewhiskey.

Harry looked around the table at the only two Weasleys he was really friends with; Percy was looking through his meager winnings, while George piled the galleons, sickles, and knuts in front of him into a bag, grinning.

"I'm going to get you back, George. Don't forget it." Harry barked good-naturedly.

"Mate, you're welcome to try."

The Friday poker game at Grimmauld Place had been a staple for years for the four young men; Dean and Harry had gotten much closer due to their Auror work, while Percy had become much more friendly after Hermione's departure; it turned out he'd probably known and understood her better than the younger Weasley brother, and was still friendly with her as well.

George had always been a staple at Grimmauld Place, especially since he so often disagreed with his family. He usually stayed over, crashing in his bedroom there, when he wasn't abroad working with his other stores. He preferred being somewhere with other people after the death of Fred (he'd always been extremely close to his twin), and he'd not moved back into the flat above the store in Diagon.

"Hmm...it's nearly midnight here, that makes it 6 pm in Chicago. Want to call Hermione?"

"Sure, mate. Using your new feletone already?" Percy asked.

"Heh. It's a _telephone_, Perce. Or mobile's easier. The auror office is finally pulling their thumbs out, turns out mobile phones are a hell of a lot faster and more convenient for communications than the floo or even Patronuses. I got the contract to charm the things, and they've proved so popular they're looking at changing some of the laws aimed at controlling muggle technology." George said. Such a change in laws heralded a huge shift in his business model.

"Right then. Let's see if she's home." Harry said, looking up her number in his contact book and dialing it.

After 4 rings, he was about to hang up when a breathless voice answered.

"_Hello."_

"Hermione? It's me, Harry. I've got Percy and George on the line." he said, activating the speaker phone.

"_HARRY!"_ she nearly screeched, and then laughed. _"It's been ages since I talked to you! You finally got a phone, huh?"_

"I did indeed. The auror office is using them now."

"_Nice of them to join the 21st century."_

"By way of the 17th century." he quipped, drawing a laugh. "How've you been, 'Mione?"

"_Oh...I've been better, truthfully." _All three men could hear the hook in her voice.

"What's wrong, little otter?" asked Percy.

"_Perce, is that you? Oh...well, I went to a club alone and nearly ended up going home with somebody I didn't want to."_

Harry's face got stormy; he'd gotten the hint of what she was saying.

"What did you get dosed with?" he asked. Percy and Fred gasped; neither very familiar with the club scene, they hadn't understood.

"_Vampire venom."_

"**What?" **Harry nearly bellowed.

"_A Red Court vampire was cruising for a meal, and I happened to get in the way."_ she said quickly, her voice shaky enough to be noticeable over the international connection. George and Percy went red-faced.

"Where's the son of a bitch, I'm gonna kill'em...and what's the Red Court, anyways?"

"_He's dead. Somebody noticed me being taken out of the club and followed. Harry, you're not gonna _believe_ this-it's another wizard named Harry." _she said, giggling._ "The Red Court are a specific type of vampires."_

Harry chuckled, but still looked concerned. "He didn't try to turn you or anything, did he?"

"_No. He never got the chance. I got dosed with the vampire venom when he licked my neck, and well...I got _very_ out of it. Think Firewhiskey plus Confundus charm."_

George and Percy still looked a bit red, but for different reason; with their relative naivety of the muggle world, especially certain subcultures, they'd still kept a vision of Hermione as a very innocent girl in their minds. Harry knew different, having been told so in no uncertain terms in some of her letters.

"Ouch. That's a bad combination. Thankfully, it sounds like you got out of it without any harm."

"_That's what I really wanted to let you know. Otherwise...I'm done with classes for the year. I start junior year, third year, next year. It's really quite exciting. Nothing like Hogwarts, where everything is all _traditional_. People are doing new things all the time. I wish I could keep a computer, but they break down when I get within 10 feet of them. I have to make do with an old-fashioned mechanical typewriter."_

"I heard a bloke out there is working on charming computers to work with magic; any news on that?" George said.

"_Unfortunately, no. Even if he could get it to work, the amount of work required would make them prohibitively expensive."_

"Pity. If I can get it to work, I'll send you one, 'Mione."

"_Oh, George, that would be wonderful. So how's everything going with my three favorite guys?"_

"Good. Penny's doing just fine." said Percy, smiling slightly. "She's on a girl's night out while we boys played poker."

"Still dating the field, my favorite bookworm. Most women just can't handle the sh_ear_ intensity of George Weasley." She groaned good-naturedly at his bad pun.

"Ginny and I are in a bit of a wicket right now. We're not doing well, 'Mione."

"_I'm sorry to hear that, Harry. I may not like Ginny much anymore, but I don't like hearing that you're unhappy."_

"It's not a problem. We have these periodically. She just wants to do Quidditch, and go to parties, and I'd like to have other hobbies, you know? Lately, though, she's been pissed with me for another reason. Not sure what."

"_What's this, a Potter decrying Quidditch? Doth mine ears deceive me?"_ she said, giggling.

"I love to watch a game, still enjoy a pickup game now and then. But honestly, there's more to life." he grumbled, grinning at her snarky comeback. Despite her recent traumas, she seemed to be doing okay.

They chatted for nearly an hour before finally signing off; Harry had a day out with Teddy tomorrow, while George had to open the store and Percy was planning on a weekend retreat with Penny.

* * *

Hermione hung up her phone, grinning at the unexpected call from Harry. She wrote down the number in her little black book, and turned back to the book she was reading.

She didn't get very far...her eyes kept trailing over to the black book sitting next to her phone. She thought of the two numbers marked Harry Dresden in there. It was nearly 7pm, and she wondered if she should call.

In a darkened lounge within her mind, a few Hermiones were lounging, arguing incessantly as they usually did.

_Just call him. If he doesn't answer, he's not there. Simple as that._ a Hermione said, one that looked exactly like her right now.

"_What if he does answer? What do you really want to do?" _a second Hermione answered. This one was dressed in rumpled tweed, wearing a professor's suit and bifocals with her hair in a tight bun, and represented her Devil's advocate, the one who questioned _everything_.

_I don't know. It's late to be thinking of dinner...or even just coffee._

_**He might want to do something **_**to**_** you **_**later**_** though...**_a third Hermione purred. This one was dressed in her black satin club-going dress, although it was far less substantial than the real one.

She shoved down the comment from her libido, ignoring the insinuation.

_I'll call him. The worst that can happen is he doesn't answer. That's all._

"_Sure, keep thinking that."_

_**Remember your contraceptive charm.**_

_Shut up!_

She screwed up her courage, reached for the black book, and opened it; under his name, in bold, with little hearts around it ("_Who is he, Gilderoy Lockhart?" _said the tweed-wearing Hermione) were his numbers; office and home.

She started with the home number. She let it ring out, and after hanging up, screamed out in frustration.

_Jeez, honey. Relax. Just call the other number._

She dialed, and sat listening to the ringing noise.

_*Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring.*_

_*This is Harry Dresden's office. Sorry you missed me. I'm not in the office right now, but if you leave your name, number, and a message, I'll get back to you as soon as possible. My office hours are-*_

She hung up and screamed again, even more frustrated.

_**Just go to bed, sweetie. Your bedside drawer is calling to you. Specifically, the nine inch-**_

_Shut. Up. Now._

She decided to call one more time, at his home number.

_Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. Ring-_She was about to hang up, when she heard a click.

* * *

Harry heard the phone ringing while he was in the shower. Once, twice, three, four; then it stopped.

He continued his shower, shaving simultaneously, then stepped out and toweled off, throwing on a towel around his waist.

The phone started ringing again; he raced over and picked it up, a bit breathless.

"Hello?"

"_Oh! Er, Hi. Um...Harry?"_

"This is Harry Dresden." he said, a grin growing on his face.

"_This is..er, Hermione. We met the other day...well, you actually saved my-"_

"Heh, kind of hard to forget. Hi, Hermione. What occasions the call?"

"_Well, er. I just thought I'd call and see how you were doing. I mean..." _she sighed._ "Oh, damn. What are you doing tonight?"_

He chuckled. "Well, I was about to head out for the night. I've got some dice with my name on 'em."

He didn't miss the disappointment in her voice. _"Oh. Well, that's alright. You, er...gamble?"_

"It's not gambling. Tabletop roleplaying games. I've been playing a game with friends since last year."

"_Oh. That sounds interesting."_ He could practically hear the plea.

He chuckled again. "Do you want to come along?"

"_Oh, I wouldn't want to interfere. I wouldn't know what I'm doing anyways."_

"Hermione, relax. It's all good. We always enjoy having a newbie at the table. At least I won't be the newb anymore."

"_Oh, I see how it is. You just want me to be a distraction."_ she said, but he could hear the laugh in her voice.

"Yep. I'm leaving soon, so get over here quick if you want to come."

"_I'll see you in a few."_ she hesitated, for a moment. _"Thanks, Harry."_

"No problem." he said, and heard the click as she hung up.

He turned to get dressed, and had just gotten into his room and reached for the dresser when he heard a _crack_ in his living room.

Harry immediately turned around, holding up his towel with one hand, and saw her standing near the door, grinning. She saw his state of undress and blushed, but gestured for him to go back and finish. He chuckled, turning back around and closing the door behind him.

"Spoilsport!" he heard her call.

"Aren't you supposed to be the naive and demure one?" he called back, and heard her laugh, a tinkling little note with a sardonic edge on it.

He threw on clothes, focusing on 'normal and relaxed', and stepped out again. She was standing in front of a bookshelf, studying the titles...

Uh oh.

She'd found his little selection of...novels. They were usually hidden behind a layer of other books.

He'd bought them as payment for Bob, initially, for a special case. But on lonely winter nights, with no TV, girlfriend, or computer...well...They _had_ to be better than porno mags.

"I'd never have taken you for Anne Rice."

"Would you believe me if I said they're for my skull?"

She turned a steady gaze on me, and then nodded, a smile cracking her face. "I would."

"Then you're naive and gullible." he said, deadpan. She laughed again, a tinkling bell that rang in his ears for several seconds.

"Ready to go?"

"Yep. I, er...I don't need anything, do I?"

"Nope. You can borrow whatever you need. Just let me grab the case of beer to take with."

She poked her nose around his shoulder while he was packing a soft-pack cooler, with some of Mac's finest, ice cold (Mac would never forgive him).

"Mac's? Never heard of it."

"It's a microbrew. It's actually only sold in one place...fittingly, it's called McAnally's. It's a little paranormal pub a bit of a distance away. Accorded neutral ground; they won't screw with you, but you'd better not screw with someone else in there."

"Language!" she scolded, almost as a reflex, and swatted his arm good-naturedly.

"Lots of practice doing that?"

"You've no idea." she said wearily.

"Alright, let's hit the road."

"Mmhmm." she said, looping an arm in his.

They stepped out onto the road, where the mighty Blue Beetle was parked. She smirked at the car; he knew she'd seen it before, but she was a bit out of it then.

"Don't." he said, cutting her off with a glance and a raised eyebrow.

"I wasn't going to say anything."

"Sure."

"It's a lovely car." she sniffed, sitting primly on the cobbled-together crate and upholstery seat.

"Of course it is. The Beetle's never let me down before." _Well, most of the time_, he thought.

The Beetle roared (well, sputtered) to life, and they set off to Billy and Georgia's.

"So how did you get in my apartment anyways?"

She giggled. "Apparition. Or Disapparition, depending on your perspective."

"Which is..."

"Translocation. It's a sort of wordless spell that I can use to project myself somewhere. Mentally at first, and then the body follows suit. It's easy to get wrong, and leave behind parts of yourself, so it's not easy to learn. I got pretty good at it during what should have been my 7th year of school. It was the only safe and rapid way to travel."

"Handy." _And scary. Right past my wards?_

"It can be. It's dangerous to use when drunk or injured, though. Easier to lose bits of yourself."

"That could be an issue." he said, smirking.

She giggled. "Mmhmm."

He looked her over briefly at a stoplight, and she caught him looking, blushing brightly at the attention. She wore a nice pair of suede boots, a pair of faded dark blue hip-hugging jeans, and a white peasant blouse with a nice light green wool cardigan over top. Her hair was pulled up in back, piled behind her head and stuck through with a pair of chopsticks.

"You look nice."

"The same." she said, peeking at him. Beneath the perpetually present black leather duster, which she really enjoyed the feel and smell of, he wore a plaid western shirt, jeans, and cowboy boots. She noticed that he had the rod she'd seen the other night hanging on a thong in his coat, and on closer inspection she saw a hide bracelet on his left wrist covered in copper shields and a silver ring on one forefinger. He also had a pentacle pendant made of silver around his neck, which looked a bit battered.

"So what's this game like, that we'll be playing?"

"Currently we're playing Arcanos. Medieval, sword and sorcery type. Wizards, and barbarians, and thieves and such. The sort concerned mothers and Christian purists wring their hands over, because it encourages the people who play to actually think through problems rather than just take someone's word for it. Plus, chainmail bikinis in the source books."

She snickered. "Ahh. Never had the chance to play before, though I've seen some people with those books in the Library before. Who do you play with?"

"Billy Borden, his girlfriend Georgia, and their friends Kirby and Andi."

"I know Billy and Georgia at least. And by association, the guy with them who was buried in the books labelled with that name must be Kirby."

"And Andi is a redhead bombshell friend of Georgia."

"Oh." she said, a bit flatly.

"Heh. Don't worry. I'm currently betting that Andi and Kirby are going to get together. Georgia _swears_ there's nothing going on. But..."

"You got a hunch?"

"Got a hunch." he said, smug look on his face. She smiled, then looked away at the rapidly darkening city.

"Here we are." he said, parking near a large apartment building. It wasn't necessarily the _best_ of areas, considering the odd intersection of college campus and low-rent housing in Chicago. The area had inexplicably been getting safer in recent years. It obviously had _nothing_ to do with the pack of large wolves that had been patrolling the streets late at night, chasing the supernatural predators away. _Nor_ did it have to do with the deal that had been made between the Red Court and the Council. Not at all.

They climbed the stairs up to their floor (she was curious why he avoided the elevator), then knocked on the door. Billy peeked out the door, and saw him. The situation almost reminded her of the dark days of the war, when people didn't open their doors without security questions. Then he looked across and saw her, and an eyebrow went up.

"Come in. Hey, Harry. And welcome..."

"Hermione."

"Nice to meet you. Come in, meet the gang." he said, closing the door behind them. Harry took a bag out of his pocket, and hung the duster up on a hook, giving her a wry smirk as the young man that had answered the door (short, shorter even than her but broad as he was tall and built like an armored tank) pulled her by the arm over to the other players, who were migrating towards a large table upon which a sort of gridded map was laid out.

"I'm Billy, that's Georgia in the kitchen, this lug is Kirby, and that's Andi over there. Guys, this is Hermione."

Andi and Georgia walked over, giving her a quick hug. "Welcome, Hermione. You're one of the Library gang, aren't you?"

She blushed. "How did you know?"

"I always see you there, usually sitting with Sally Clyde. I occasionally talk to her."

"Apparently my reputation precedes me."

"Huh, I didn't recognize you." Billy said, studying her.

"I'm dressed a bit differently than normal." she said, pink tinging her cheeks.

Billy nodded. "Ahh, must be it. Well, grab a seat. I assume Harry filled you in on what we're playing?"

"He did. I think I'll be able to pick it up."

"Great! Alright, we've got the big dumb barbarian here" he said, pointing at Harry who mock-snarled, "I'm the witty, urbane, fireball-wielding wizard, Georgia is the holy woman with the power of god at her fingertips, and Andi is the sneaky, deadly thief. And Kirby is the one who keeps us nutcases on our toes with weird monsters and plot twists, also commonly referred to as the DM and 'you bastard.'"

Hermione giggled. "Sounds entertaining. So what do you need me to do?"

Billy reached into a file cabinet and pulled out a folder, then leafed through it. "Well...we could use a stalwart knight, the clever, cunning and charismatic bard, or the ascetic with improbable martial arts skills."

"I have the feeling I'm probably the bard. I've been told I have a thousand tricks up my sleeves."

"Bard it is!" Billy said, pulling a sheet and passing it across, along with a pencil and some scratch paper, and grabbing a little plastic figurine about an inch high, of a small figure holding a lute.

Harry saw Georgia give him a silent beckoning motion, and he followed her into the kitchen where she slowly got snacks and drinks together.

"I didn't know you were into coeds, Harry." she said teasingly.

"Hell's bells." he said, exasperatedly. "I just met her the other day. She was...well, she was going through a bad time. I stopped her from going home with somebody against her will."

"She's a client?" she asked confusedly.

"Not quite. I gave her a hand in a sticky situation, and she wanted to hang out tonight. I figured this would get her mind off the problem."

"Hmm. We'll talk, Dresden. Later." she said, brooking no disagreement.

"Yes, mom." he murmured under his breath, and she swatted him on the head.

He helped her with the drinks, and handed out everyone's Mac's beer. A short silence was observed for the drinking of the first of the Mac's, and even Hermione got into the act.

They continued after a moment, and Kirby and Billy helped her quickly build her character; a pixie bard, tiny and fierce. As suspected, she caught on quickly apart from some confusion about save bonuses and the like. Harry was thanking God that she hadn't chosen the monk; He'd rather try to pick his way through Sidhe contracts than argue with the incomprehensible arcana that was the grapple rules.

* * *

Hermione had a blast that night. Apart from some bobbles with game mechanics, she threw herself into the actual role play of the game, spinning some inspired yarns and bluffs to get past guards that even threw the DM, Kirby, for a loop.

She enjoyed it not only for the game, but also for the interaction. All here were friends, and had varying interests in the game; Harry seemed to enjoy it more for the simplicity it carried than the seeming complexity of his normal life (she guessed that's why he _didn't_ play a wizard in-game, although that didn't stop him from arguing with the in-game wizard about wizardly tactics). Kirby and Andy were flirting subtly, although she noticed that Georgia seemed to be totally ignoring the interplay, or was oblivious (and she leaned to the former). And Billy was a bucket of laughs, playing up the snarky, witty wizard very well. She suspected he used some of Harry's personality to create his character.

She was brought nearly to tears from laughing so hard when the barbarian and the holy woman got into a metaphysical debate regarding respect for the dead in a church cemetery and the related issue of property rights (it was amazing what he could put across in single-syllable words), and again when the thief kept snagging things off non-player character's belts without being caught, much to the obvious frustration of the DM.

The invite to continue coming to games came easily, and she accepted it gladly. She saw a tiny smile on Dresden's face when she did, and grinned back at him, delighting in the blush she saw coloring his face.

Strangely, it seemed like almost getting eaten by a vampire was the best thing that that had happened to her in recent memory.

* * *

"Bye, you two. See you next week?"

"Definitely. I had ever so much fun tonight." Hermione said, leaning against Harry's arm. Georgia's eyes flashed a warning at him, but he nodded subtly, indicating he was already aware.

"Do you want to head home from here, or do you want to leave from my place?"

"I'll leave from your place. I can teach you how to set up anti-apparition wards too."

"Heh. I'll take you up on that offer."

The ride to his apartment was quiet for most of it; he didn't have a car radio, and the only noise was the traffic from outside, the sputtering of the Beetle's engine, the whisper of the tires, and the humming coming from the passenger seat.

He looked over at her and she smiled back at him, when she noticed his attention. "Have fun tonight?"

"Mmhmm! I really enjoyed the barbarian's advanced grasp of metaphysics and moral conflicts."

"I thought 'It's Mine Now.' was particularly inspiring. As was 'Treasure inspectors.'"

She blushed. "Hey, it was my first time." She blushed redder at the unintentional double entendre.

"Most people muff it up the first time." he said, with a wicked grin. "They get the hang of it with practice though."

"Oh, quiet, you!" she said brightly, swatting at his arm. She looked out at the buildings on each side as they proceeded back to his apartment.

"I always liked the city at night. It's got such a different character than during the day. In daytime, it's dirty, smelly and busy. At night, it's all dark and starlit."

"Hmm." he said, remembering some things that had happened on dark Chicago streets that he'd rather forget.

They drove on in silence.

* * *

"Want a drink?"

"I'd better not have another beer. Just a coke." she said, sitting on a couch in his apartment. He pulled two cans out of the fridge and handed her one, popping the top as he did. She grinned at his thoughtfulness, and took a swig of coke, then leaned against his shoulder, her feet buried underneath her.

"I had a really good time. Thanks for bringing me out. I enjoy making new friends." she said, looking up at him.

"I thought you might have fun there. I figured you would at least peripherally know the gang."

"They're so _different_. And I think you were right about Andi and Kirby, now that I think about it."

"Georgia refuses to see it. She won't admit I'm right." he said with a smug grin on his face.

"Hmm." she said, humming softly again as she took another drink. After a minute of companionable silence, staring into the low fire (more for atmosphere than heat), she looked up at him, and got up to her knees, steadying herself with one hand on his shoulder, then settling herself on his lap, straddling his hips.

"Hermione..." he said warningly.

"Shush." she said, putting a fingertip on his lips. "Let me have my say. I didn't get the chance to properly thank you."

"'Mione-"

"It would be my choice, and my right to give you a reward." she said, getting closer, and he fought the growing urge to pull her in and kiss her, only barely keeping himself from resting his hands on her hips. Finally he mastered the urge and put his hands to her shoulders, holding her out a foot or so.

"Hermione...I can't accept. It wouldn't be right."

"Harry...you saved my life. There's a debt. It can only be repaid with a sacrifice from me."

"And I can't accept it now." Her libido heard the word _now_ and danced licentiously in glee, while the rest of her began to get his drift, and her demeanor cracked. "I'm starting to like you. You're different. Clever. Brilliant. Beautiful. But you're also broken somewhere inside. I couldn't, in good conscience, take advantage of you like that."

"If it's my choice..."

"I want to be able to respect myself in the morning when I look in the mirror, well, if I owned one. And I want you to be able to respect yourself too. It would be like taking advantage of a drunk person right now, you're _not thinking clearly_." he whispered, firmly but not harshly.

The first tears began to slide down her face, and he saw a look of revulsion and dejection growing in her eyes.

"Notice I didn't say _never_. I'm not rejecting you. I'm telling you to get your head on straight and clear your brain out before we pursue something here. I want to know more about you. About your life, about your past. You can learn about me at the same time. It'll be a mutual voyage for us. And at the end, if you still feel the same way, we can take that next step."

She sniffled, then buried her face in his shoulder, curling up against his chest. He sighed, and put his arms around the weeping girl, rubbing gently.

"Shh. It's alright."

"Y-you m-must think I-I'm some k-kind of w-whore." she sniffled quietly. He held her head back a bit so she could see his face.

"No. I don't. I see a brilliant, clever, beautiful girl who's a bit broken at the moment. And feeling vulnerable." He gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, and she closed her eyes and smiled even in the midst of tears.

"I'm sorry for breaking down on you like this." she murmured into his shoulder.

"At least we're on the couch this time, and I'm dressed." She enjoyed the vibrations of his talking against her own chest and neck.

She giggled. "Yes, that is an improvement."

They sat for a while, and he felt her calm down, sniffles abating and breathing evening out.

"Come on, you should go home. You can do your...Apparating thing."

"Okay. Harry? Thanks. I had a great time, and you were a perfect gentleman yet again."

"I'd hate to have my record broken."

"Good night."

"Night." he said, and she turned on her heel, her body twisting in on itself and disappearing with a _crack_.

* * *

"Sally?" The knock on her door had been unexpected.

"'Mione? What's wrong?"

"I threw myself at him like a slut. And he turned me down." she said, breaking down in tears once again. Sally reached out of her apartment door and pulled the weeping girl in, wrapping her up in her arms and directing her to the couch, where she sat down with her.

"Come on, tell me what happened."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Understanding

* * *

Georgia threaded through the tables at IHOP and sat down in the booth opposite Harry, who was staring down into his coffee somberly. He looked up, and smiled briefly.

"Hi, Georgia."

"Hey, Harry. Your message said you wanted to talk?"

"Hmm."

The waitress came by and got their breakfast orders. Georgia took a sip of coffee then looked at Harry steadily.

"What happened?"

"She came onto me, last night. She was saying she wanted to repay the life debt, or some such. Poor kid."

"You didn't..." she said, half-threateningly.

"_Hells bells, Of course I fucking didn't._ What is it with my friends thinking I'm a lecherous bastard?"

"Because you've been practically celibate for years, Harry. Ever since Susan left. But you're right, it's not fair of us to automatically assume you'll take what's offered." Georgia said soothingly.

Harry blushed at the mention of Susan leaving; clearly their liaison was still a closely-guarded secret. "Thank you. Now, if you don't mind, can we talk about the problem?"

"Sure."

"I think she needs to talk to somebody, pronto. I didn't know if you have somebody you can suggest."

"Hmm. Is it trauma-related?"

"That's part of it, but not the whole. I get the feeling she's a whole bundle of issues. And while I'm willing to talk with her and tease out the stories about her past, I think she needs to talk to somebody who isn't a friend or the person she's trying to jump into the sack with."

"The head of the Psych department at U of C is pretty versed, and has the social worker degree. I'll talk with her. Now, when you turned her down, how did it go?"

"Surprisingly well. I'm not sure just how serious she was about it. She cried on me for a while, not for the first time, but I feel like we at least cleared the air regarding future sexual advances."

"You didn't outright reject her, did you?'

"A, it would have been the wrong response at the time, and B, I'm not going to rule out any possible future relationship we can make work."

"That's surprisingly mature of you, Harry. Lecherous bastard." she said, lips curling in a smile.

"Laugh it up, fuzzball."

"You know I only put up with that joke because it's true." she said, smirking now. "Alright. Tell me how you met her, what you've done with her so far."

"I really don't think-"

"If myself or somebody else is going to help her, we need to know what happened. I could ask her about it and not give you any say at all, but I figured you'd be best to start with."

He sighed. "Fine." He took a bite of pancake, then looked up at Georgia. She nibbled at her omelet, but was watching him with curious, professional eyes. He knew he wasn't talking to his friend, the werewolf, the cleric in their weekly Arcanos games. This was the professional face, the woman who was in training to be a counselor.

"I first saw her in a club called Gothique."

"Sounds..._interesting_. Why were-"

"I was working a case, with Murph. Young people, especially young women, were disappearing. We tracked the reported disappearances, and realized at least one predator was hitting some of these darkened clubs where it could fit in. Murph suspected paranormal foul play.

"We made eye contact; she was definitely dressed for the part, in some sort of black satin dress, with leather trim. Pretty stunning. I figured she was an experienced club-goer. I could generally tell between the regulars and the people just poking their heads in and looking around.

"I had turned away, when I felt a whisper of power against my senses. It felt dark and cold, exactly what I'd been looking for. I followed my nose, so to speak, and saw some guy leaving with her. It had to be him, the way she was just walking out with him. It was early yet, and she hadn't danced more than once with anybody yet."

"Oh, God." Georgia uttered, hand covering her mouth.

"I caught up to them in the alley. I challenged him, and when he turned around to see me, I got a glimpse of her. She was dosed to hell, and the extending fangs and black eyes on the guy told me what I needed."

"Red Court?"

"A rogue from the Reds, yea. He admitted he didn't have court backing for his little operation. So I burned him to cinders."

"Right in front of her?"

He grimaced. "I had my suspicions about her, and when I rubbed her back while she was tossing up on the ground, I felt a tingle. I figured she was a practitioner."

"Even better for a Red. Lots of extra juice in her blood." Georgia said, thinking hard. "I should have guessed it. Whenever I see her in the library, she avoids the computer filing systems. She prefers the old card files downstairs; there was a minor revolt in the library last year when they wanted to remove the old files entirely in favor of the computers, and I can guess now who led it."

"Anyways, Murph told me to take her back to my place."

"Why?" Georgia asked, surprised.

"We weren't sure about the Reds' involvement. If more came along, we didn't want them coming into SI after her, nor did we feel safe just dropping her at home. I wanted to be behind wards. I had the counteragent to that damned saliva at home anyways."

"Ahh."

"We talked a bit once she was recovering from the stuff, Karrin came and questioned her for the deposition. Apparently she's been hit with GHB before."

"_What?"_

"Almost a year ago, I think. That friend of hers, Sally, stopped her from going with the guy when she saw how doped she looked. A cop friend of Murphy's was the arresting officer of the would-be-rapist."

"Jesus. And she keeps going out?"

"I think her friend Sally was going to tear her a new one for that. Especially for going alone."

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph. Self-destructive tendencies. I'd really like to refer her to my department head, Dr. Selwin. She's the best around at this sort of thing. But..."

"She's not clued in?"

"No. It may be worth it letting her in, anyways. We can put it under patient confidentiality."

"She's not going to agree with that."

"So we lie."

A raised eyebrow spoke more than words, and she rephrased.

"Okay, we insinuate. I can set up the meeting, and _suggest_ she tell the doc everything."

"Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen. But...you're the expert."

"Continue with the story."

"Well, because we were worried about leaving her alone at her place, I had her take my bed, and I crashed on the couch. I woke up early, probably 4 or 5 am, to someone screaming painfully. She had put some sort of spell on the bedroom door, locking it, but I just dismantled the spell and went in.

"Georgia, she looked like she was being _tortured_. She went rigid and limp alternately, and screamed, and said that she didn't know where 'it' was."

"_Oh, God."_ Georgia whispered, wondering just what had happened to the girl.

"I couldn't just let her keep screaming, so I sat at the head of the bed and comforted her. She woke up and cried into my chest for a while, then I had her tell me about the dream."

"Oh, Harry...you didn't make things any easier on yourself." she said, shaking her head ruefully.

"What the hell else was I supposed to do, let her keep dreaming about fun-time with Charlie Manson?"

"Not much you could have done." she said, sighing.

"It may not have been the right thing, but it was the only thing."

Georgia just nodded.

"I tried to get away once she was asleep, but she wouldn't let go. So I figured, what the hell, and stayed there.

"Turned out to not be such a good idea when Murphy walked in later that morning."

"Oof." Georgia said, wincing.

"I've never felt more worried for my reproductive organs."

"TMI, Dresden."

"We had breakfast, she borrowed some of Murph's clothes, they had a bit of a spat about Murphy looking into her past...good times."

"It sounds like something's eating Murphy about her. That, and it sounds like Hermione's got some blank spots in her past."

"She thought I had done something ungentlemanlike."

"She should know better, just like I should have. And frankly, Murphy has other issues. I'll talk to her and get the real story."

"What? She told me what was wrong."

"And you're a _man_. She's not going to tell you some things."

"_Anyways._ We took her over to her apartment, met that Sally girl quickly, gave her cards, and left."

"So how did she make her way over to our place?"

"She called me while I was in the shower, actually. Just a bit beforehand. That's why there was no warning. She then did some sort of transportation magic, and popped right into my apartment, scared the _hell _out of me."

"Did she say anything about the night on the way back? I approve, by the way, bringing her over where there's a crowd. Extra eyes and all that."

"She said she had enjoyed herself. Then, we went back to my place."

"That was your second or third mistake, Harry. You should have dropped her off."

"I wasn't thinking, alright? I'd enjoyed spending time with her too."

"I'm not saying it's entirely your fault, but it's where more of your problem is. You gave her the opening; sitting alone in your apartment with you?"

"Okay, okay. I get the picture."

"So?"

"So she climbed in my lap and told me she hadn't thanked me "properly." I think I talked her down pretty well, not outright rejecting her. She still cried on me some more. I don't know if she's had a lot of rescue fantasy in the past...but I'm living proof that it doesn't work quite like that."

Georgia snorted again. "I'd say so, Dresden. You really don't do things by halves, do you?" she said, shaking her head.

"Whatever. Can you talk to your department head?"

"Yes. I'll clue her in. I may give you a call if I need paranormal assistance with said cluing."

"Just go wolfy on her, that'll convince her."

"Yes, I'll strip down and transform into a 200 pound wolf in her glass-walled office, in front of the entire Psych department. Smart move." she snarked.

"Meh. Can you set it up?"

"Yeah. I'll call Sally and get Hermione on board too. I also gotta see what's eating Murphy." she murmured, writing notes for herself.

"Aren't you glad you're friends with us? We're all nutballs. Plenty of field research right in front of you."

"It's wonderful being the only sane person, Dresden."

* * *

Hermione (in her more normal black skirt and layered bare-shoulder tunics, rather than the very fashionable look she'd sported the night before) sat uncomfortably on the tall hard stool before the register at Bock Ordered Books, reading her latest acquisition (her addiction was down to about 1 new book a week during the school year, 3 new books a week during the summer).

The book was one she'd found on a back-room shelf; it appeared to be a primer for apprentice wizards, called _Elementary Magic_ by Ebenezar McCoy; probably the real deal, from the concepts and techniques he was discussing. She was half tempted to try some of the exercises. She shifted uncomfortably on the stool (once Sally had talked her down the night before, and listened to the story, she'd followed through on her previous threats and given Hermione a thorough spanking); she was still sore today, who knew Sally had a riding crop that close to hand?

The door ringer chimed, and her indecently perky goth friend bounced in.

"Hey, hun. I brought lunch as a peace offering."

"Hi, Sal. I guess I deserved what you gave me last night." she said, smiling softly. Sally bounded around the counter and hugged her briefly, then grabbed the other stool and brought it around the front of the counter, setting down the sack of food and pulling out the homemade salads; with grilled chicken, croutons, real vinaigrette dressing, and mediterranean seasonings, along with two cans of Coke.

Hermione smiled fondly at the red cans, then popped the top on hers and took a sip, before digging into the salad.

"Thanks for bringing lunch."

"No problem, sweetheart." Sally said, starting on her own salad.

They ate in companionable silence, each with their own book. Finally, Hermione cleared the bowl and mopped up the last of the dressing.

"Mmm, that was great. Thanks, Sal."

"Confession time. That was a bribe."

Hermione studied her warily, leaning back and pushing away from the counter theatrically. "Uh-oh."

"Georgia gave me a call, and said she's going to be talking to Doc Selwin, the Psychology department Head. She's a certified counselor, and we're going to see if she can talk to you, or at least suggest a suitable counselor."

"**Bloody hell**, Sally. Are you all talking about me behind my back? Why not go get Harry, and make sure he knows just how **bloody crazy** I am?"

Sally recoiled a bit; Hermione _rarely_ swore, and only went into full-on British Bitch mode when she was really, truly, angry.

"Sweetie...we're _worried_ about you. You've just had a traumatic experience, and you need to talk to somebody. We're not going to _force_ you to go, I suppose...but we'd like you to. Georgia could pick it out right away, with only some questions to Harry. If it's that obvious...don't you think you should at least talk to Doc Selwin?"

"I'll think about it. Now get the hell out of my sight before I **bloody hex** you." she whispered harshly.

Sally gathered her bag and scurried out, several tears trailing down her cheek. She dropped a card with Doctor Selwin's number and information on it upon the counter.

Hermione turned back to her book, trying hard to maintain her righteous fury, but it turned to cold guilt in her stomach as she thought of her friend, who was just trying to help her.

"Damnit, Sally." she whispered, and tried to stem the tears from her own eyes, thinking that she really shouldn't be sitting here crying in open view of anybody who comes in.

Into the store walked the very last person in the world she wanted to see at the moment.

"Oh, hey, Hermione. I didn't know you worked here."

"Harry. Hi! Welcome to Bock Ordered Books."

He smiled, but wondered at the obvious tears on her cheeks, and the red eyes. "I'm looking for _Secrets of Faerie_, by Carmus. Bob told me an answer I'm looking for is in that book, but I don't have it."

"Hmm, I think it's in the back room. Let me put up a sign and I'll get it for you."

Harry felt a pulse of magic, and with his senses picked up what could only be termed as a magical trip-wire that appeared across the door and tied to her with a slender blue thread; it was obviously some sort of alarm that would tell her when someone came in the store. Clever. He barely noticed the narrow tip of wood between her thumb and finger, then it vanished again into her sleeve.

"Nice alarm." he said, and she looked at him with a vague sense of shock.

"You felt it?"

"Yeah. Full wizard of the Council, here. I may be a magical brute, but I can feel magic being cast from a mile away." It was a subtle lie, something he was becoming more capable of with time; he might _possibly_ have been able to pick it up under the best of circumstances a year ago, but he knew that his magical sensitivity had gone way up since he'd picked up the Denarius in February, and locked it away inside and beneath the copper ring in his lab. He didn't know exactly what the side effects of having that damn thing hiding away in his head would be, but he knew it wasn't exactly pleasant, and wanted to limit it as much as possible.

"Hmm." she said, surreptitiously wiping her eyes when she was turned away to lead them to the back room; there was a special section there, full of rare and expensive books.

She opened the door, but imperiously held a hand out and kept him from coming in.

"Showing you it's here is one thing, but Artemis would have my hide if I let you in."

"Fair enough." he said, holding up his hands in surrender. She whispered under her breath, and he Listened; "_Secret Places of Egypt_, _S'ecre du Mourn_, _Secrecy of the Mind_, ah ha!

"_Secrets of Faerie_. It's a rare edition, run you $800."

"Oof, there goes rent next month."

She looked around his shoulders, seeing if Artemis Bock was there, then he saw the little piece of wood extend between her thumb and finger again, and he felt a little pulse of magic hit the book.

"Book protection charm. If you pick up something else while you're here today, I'll let you find what you need. Don't worry about the book, it's as if it's been laminated."

"You're an angel." he said, grinning. She blushed, but watched as he flipped rapidly through the book, obviously on a mission.

"What are you looking for?"

"Large water fae that craves wooden ship hulls. I've got an irate sailboat owner who just had $400,000 worth of boat eaten out from under him in his home slip, and he's spent another $5,000 on pest removal that hasn't worked."

"Hmm. I'm thinking of a Welsh faery called...oh, Gwragedd Annwn. They're Welsh water spirits. Harmless to people, but I'm guessing they probably..."

"Eat wood. Especially treated ship-wood. God, you're a lifesaver. I'd have been searching for days figuring this out." he said, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek. She blushed again, but smiled and took the book back after he was done writing down what he needed, and removed the protection charm and stored it back in the protective wrapper.

"So what should I get you in exchange for the 30 seconds it took you to find the right answer?"

"You realize you just offered a free book to a bibliophile?" she asked, straight-faced.

"Am I aiding and abetting?"

"You're empowering an addict." she said, grin curling on her lips.

"You'd best choose well then." he said, smirking. She got a look of quiet glee on her face, and sprinted off to a shelf.

* * *

Doctor Keriann Selwin, age 42, sat at a very traditional desk, made of dark teak wood. Her office was glass-walled, with horizontal blinds that could cover each wall if she needed privacy.

She was solidly built, not a skinny young thing anymore, but still in good shape thanks to daily aerobics and circuit training. She wore a comfortable pant suit today, a warm peach colored blazer over black slacks, and worn deerhide ballet flats on her feet. Her closely cropped sandy blonde hair was styled in a neat pixie cut, and her dresden blue eyes were clear and bright.

She looked up from her paperwork (tests needing grading) at the discrete knock at her open office door.

"Doc, do you have a moment?"

"Georgia! Come in, dear. Do you want some tea, or water?" Georgia stepped in, closing the door behind her and sitting in the comfortable leather armchair; Keriann raised an eyebrow at that. Usually she kept her door open, except for very private conversations, and Georgia knew that quite clearly.

"I'm fine, Doc. I actually came to ask you a favor..."

"You're not late on any assignments, are you?" the older woman said, mock-scoldingly.

"Oh, nothing like that, Doc. I've got a friend that I think needs to speak to a professional."

"Is there a reason they haven't sought one out already?"

"Well...this'll seem rather odd. She has a lot of information and experiences in her past that can't be spoken of with somebody who doesn't know of it already."

"Rather Catch-22 of her."

"Heh. Well...Doc, have you ever seen something you couldn't explain?"

"I find it difficult to explain many things, including cryptic remarks by certain upperclassmen."

"Doc...do you believe in magic?"

Keriann Selwin sat back at that, looking at the young woman sitting before her. If she were anyone else, she would suspect that Georgia was deflecting, and that she was actually the person who needed help. She would suspect that Georgia had trouble differentiating reality and fantasy. She might suggest that she stop playing those silly table-top games.

Doctor Keriann Selwin, daughter of George and Rosa Selwin (name changed in 1964 from Selwyn after their immigration to the US from Great Britain), grand-daughter of Areman Selwyn, pureblood wizard, was not anyone else.

"Magic." she said. There was no skepticism in her voice, but rather a challenge.

"I could prove it right now, but your office is rather visible to everybody."

Doc Selwin raised an eyebrow at this, but triggered her self-closing Venetian blinds.

In a blur, Georgia had shucked off her loose, billowy sundress (Doc had always wondered why Georgia didn't seem to wear undergarments, nor tight, constricting clothes, from what she had seen in the past) and transformed into a 200 pound tawny wolf, approximately 4 feet at the shoulder. The big animal snuffled at the woman's hands, and licked her gently, the eyes (identical to Georgia's usual hazel orbs) glittering with intelligence. Georgia!wolf stepped back, and shimmered, turning back into a naked young woman, although she seemed entirely unconcerned about her lack of clothes judging by the lack of modesty. She slid on the sundress, and grinned, showing off a pair of rather more pronounced canines than normal.

The surprise was that Doc Selwin wasn't cowering behind her desk, or sitting with eyes wide. She had a self-satisfied look on her face, and her eyes glittered with humor.

"I had my suspicions, Georgia. Your general lack of certain inhibitions, your rather feral mindset towards certain things...Thank you for confirming them."

"This response is not quite what I suspected." Georgia muttered, slumping down into a chair.

"My father was born non-magical into a long-standing magical line. My parents originally come from Britain, did you know that? They immigrated in the late sixties. Given the times, I had my doubts about their stories when I was younger, but the moving pictures and seeing that door appear out of a brick wall behind an old pub in London on my first visit proved their veracity."

"This takes one of the major mill-stones off our neck. Do you think you could talk to this girl? She's experienced trauma, both recent and old, and I think she has a whole slew of other issues at play."

"Give me a brief case history."

"She immigrated from Britain in 2001. I don't know the details from before that. She's a nearly constant club-goer, as I understand it goth and possibly BDSM, since that time. She was dosed with GHB about...a year ago? She didn't go with the guy because her friend was watching out for her, but she would have. She's had a string of bad relationships, and one-night stands. Just a few days ago, she was dosed with what's called the Kiss. It's venom from a Red Court vampire, used to make their prey pliable and easy to manipulate. She didn't go with the guy, who would have made a meal out of her once he got her somewhere private...again, just from luck. A friend of mine, Harry Dresden, happened to be watching out for the vampire as part of a case and took him out, pretty messily. She's since made at least one sexual advance toward Dresden."

"Ouch. Sounds like a pretty self-destructive outlook. Did Dresden follow through?"

"No. He resisted, and let her down easy."

"Thank heaven for small favors." she said, sighing. "Is Dresden interested in her?"

"He seems to be. He just doesn't want to take advantage of her. I have a sneaking suspicion that he sees her as one that he managed to save from the vampires...replacing the ghost of someone he couldn't protect a few years ago."

"It sounds like an awful mess, Georgia. Thanks for bringing it to me sooner rather than later. I'd like to talk to this particular patient first. Sooner or later I'll also need to talk to Dresden, considering how closely he's tied in. He'll need to know what he's dealing with, and honestly, if he should just cut bait and run."

"I had that unfortunate thought myself."

"He's a professional wizard, if I'm not mistaken. He can't be all that stable himself."

"If you were interested in looking at us, I would ask if you offer group rates for our whole social circle."

Doc Selwin laughed, despite knowing how deadly truthful the statement was. The truth is, though, that there are some situations you just have to laugh at, or cry.

* * *

Hermione knocked on Sally's door, and it opened, to show a chagrined looking Sally. She stepped through and engulfed the girl in a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Sally. I let my temper get the best of me." she whispered, clutching a bag full of Thai food.

"'Mione, it's my fault too. I should have talked with you first."

"It's past. In reparations: Thai food?"

"Sweetie, you could call me names all day for free Thai food." Sally said, laughing.

They took out the iconic pyramidal trapezoid containers from the bag, gathered up plates and chopsticks, and shared out the Pad Thai between the two of them.

"I thought about it, and I want to talk to this professor. When she gets a chance, of course."

"You're in luck, then. Georgia let me know that she's willing to talk to you. And...you should tell her _everything._"

"I...I can't do that, can I?"

"All Georgia told me is that she's a smart, resilient lady, and she needs to know the details to help you."

"I'll think about it. Oh, you'll _never_ guess who came into Bock Ordered Books right behind you?"

"I can guess." Sally said, wryly smirking. "Tall, dark, and Marlboro Man?"

"Something like that. He needed to take a look at a rare book. I figured if he bought a cheaper book, I could let him take a look at the book he really needed just to get the information."

"Artemis would string you up if he heard that."

"What Artemis doesn't know won't hurt him. Besides, he made a sale. It was promptly given to me, but..."

"He bought you a book?"

"Yep. Nothing fancy, just a book of criticism about Grimm's fairy tales, but I couldn't justify indulging on it myself. He offered, after I helped him figure out whatever critter was involved in the case he was working on."

"Sounds like a fair exchange then. Who got killed?"

"Hmm?"

"Usually, he gets called in when people are already dead, from what I've heard."

"Oh. Well, from what he told me a guy had some sort of unknown creature eating the hulls of his sailboats. Apparently they're some sort of Welsh water spirit that for some reason likes the taste of treated ship wood. Besides, he told me that apart from his huge cases involving the world-ending and massive intrigues, most of his solid, dependable work comes from people losing their jewelry and car keys. And the occasional lost child, and of course someone's boats being eaten."

"Hmm. Sounds like an adventure."

"Sally, believe me, adventure isn't what it's cracked up to be. I've had it up to here" she put her hand at neck level "with trolls in bathrooms and basilisks and escaped convicts that turn into dogs and are actually your best friend's godfather, and running around the countryside hunting down the party favors of an immortal dark lord. Give me steady, day to day, dependable any time." Sally didn't quite believe the mini-rant; would Hermione be as much trouble as she was if she really wanted dependable and safe?

"So you're gonna call Doctor Selwin?"

"Yes. I'll give her secretary a call and set up an appointment."

"Good girl. I won't have to spank you again."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Story

* * *

Monday morning found Hermione standing hesitantly outside the door to Doctor Selwin's office in the Psychology department.

"Miss Granger?" she heard from behind her, and saw the sandy blonde woman approaching, tray of coffees and box of pastries in hand.

"Yes. Doctor Selwin?"

"Please, dear, call me Doc or Keriann. Whatever you're comfortable with."

"Only if you call me Hermione."

"It's a lovely name. I see your parents were fond of Shakespeare."

"Hmm." Hermione kept her face passive.

The pair sat down in the comfortable leather armchairs, next to a low table where Doc Selwin set the coffees and pastries. The door was closed behind them, and the venetian blinds were closed partway to give some semblance of privacy.

"Well, Hermione, in some ways, this is your show. I could sit here and have you lay on a couch and spout nonsense, then I could spout some nonsense, and channel Freud, and dance the rain dance of modern psychiatry...but I've found that what works much better is if I follow where you lead."

"That's the problem, Keriann. I don't really know where to start."

"My mother always said to start at the beginning. A bit of an aphorism, but they're aphorisms because they're _true_, to an extent."

"The beginning."

"Tell me a bit about your family? Your years in school?"

Hermione studied Keriann Selwin closely. The woman bore a faint resemblance to someone; who that someone was, she couldn't tell. She had a warm smile and kind eyes, both masking what appeared to be a voracious intelligence and a wealth of experience.

"I was born in Britain. London, actually. I grew up in Crawley, West Sussex, England. My parents were-er, are, dentists. My mum was a pediatric orthodontist and my dad a dental surgeon. We were comfortable enough, my parents were independently wealthy and they could afford to support us quite well.

"Mum and Dad always wanted me to do well in life, and I got started with reading and learning very early. I had some weird experiences when I was a kid...a few times, they actually caught me in the act of pulling a book towards myself, without touching it. They'd sometimes put them on high shelves so I couldn't read them, for whatever reason, and they'd watch the book just fly towards my hands."

Keriann just nodded understandingly, curious about the past/present tense bobble with her parents.

"I love learning and reading. If I had any problems in school, primary at least, it's that I wasn't particularly well-socialized. I always wanted to be the best academically, so I would have the best chance to get ahead in life. I guess I annoyed the other students. I didn't have friends in primary school. They either used me, ignored me, or hated me. I learned to just avoid everyone. My teachers liked me, and my parents loved me, but I couldn't make any kids like me."

"It's not an uncommon problem. The key to fixing it is realizing you have it and taking steps to socialize yourself better; going to group events, getting together with your fellow students for things...it's not easy. I know that. But being someone's friend is hard work."

"Tell me about it. In any case, at the end of primary school, we were looking at secondary schools. And a woman came, delivering a letter. It was for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The woman who came told me I was a witch. That my magic was likely what kept other children, normal children, from making connections with me."

"How did your parents react?"

"Now that I look back on it, I know they were less than thrilled. I don't think it was hatred of magic; I know someone whose "relatives" were like that, and he had a hell on earth existence until he was old enough to leave their house permanently. But they certainly weren't exactly excited about me going off to a boarding school 10 months a year."

"They let you go anyways though."

"They knew I wanted to. And that it was important."

"You went to Diagon Alley?"

"Yes, with Professor-wait a minute. You know about the wizarding world?"

"My name wasn't always spelled SELWIN, dear. My father was the nonmagical son of a pureblood wizard, named Selwyn, spelled SELWYN. They came here in the late 60's to escape the growing problems in Britain. They were foresighted or something, because they managed to miss the entire Voldemort war."

"I've been freaking out about telling somebody about magic...ooh, I'm gonna kill Sally and Georgia!" Hermione fumed.

"Hermione, relax. It's not their fault. Truthfully, I wanted to see if you could get the courage up to broach the subject."

"Anyways. I went off to Hogwarts, on the Express. I met a lot of people on the train, including the two boys who would be my best friends all through Hogwarts. I just didn't know it yet. One was taller, with this birds-nest of red hair and freckles. The other had a mop of black hair, green eyes, and a scar on his forehead." Keriann watched her patient as she gained a wistful expression on her face.

"You really are her then..." Keriann said with a slight smile.

"Pardon?"

"The Hermione Granger who helped defeat Voldemort."

"You get the Prophet?"

"I get periodic updates. I don't get every issue of the Prophet. Please, continue."

"Well, I was very excited about going to school. Learning magic. That was what it was about, right? Except, I found myself very quickly falling into old patterns. The students despised me, and called me names still. They were different names, _mudblood_ instead of _beaver face_, but they hurt just as much." she said, rubbing her arm where the letters were still faintly visible under the skin graft. Keriann noticed the movement, and saw a bare flash of the word scored into her skin, her mind already whirring in channels...

"Words can hurt far more than physical injuries." That_ was a loaded statement._

"And children are free with their harsh words. By the end of October, I was seriously considering writing my parents and having them withdraw me. I didn't want to be there anymore. On Halloween, I tried to help the red-haired boy learn to cast a spell, and I know now that I was a bit inept at saying things the right way; he called me a nightmare and a know-it-all. Pretty gentle words, compared to some of the foul stuff I got called later when the war heated up. But it was the last straw. I ran to a toilet and cried all day, trying to figure out how to tell mum and dad that I couldn't stay there.

"Nobody came looking for me, not even teachers. That should have been a signal that the place was less than satisfactory for safety. I had just about cried myself into a nice, cozy depression when the door opened and a huge, smelly troll just strolled in. I know I froze really badly back then. It took me years to develop the instincts to just react rather than think things through in crisis situations.

"The whole affair is a bit blurry now. I don't remember much. I remember screaming, and then suddenly these two boys were there; I can still see in my minds-eye Harry holding on for dear life around the neck of that thing, his wand in its nose, and then Ron dropping a club on its head.

"That was the first time my life was saved by Harry Potter." she said, smiling wistfully again.

"How many times did it happen afterwards?"

"We lost count." Hermione said, chuckling. "Once you've saved each other's lives a half dozen times, it doesn't seem as important."

Hermione went on to describe each year, and Keriann's notepad full of diagnoses just got fuller. She kept a calm, cool face while she listened, all the while her mind was raging.

_How in the _hell_ did this girl even retain this much sanity?_ The 6 years at Hogwarts and 1 year on the run, hunting down objects to destroy Voldemort sounded like a horror movie.

Keriann watched, almost coldly (as she had to be occasionally when she was a counselor) as Hermione's voice cracked, and tears streamed down her face.

"I d-didn't understand how she could h-hate me so much just b-because of who my p-parents were. She was insane...they all w-were, I t-think. She just kept t-torturing me...over, and over. Writing into my arm, cutting into my soul with that damned knife..."

Keriann's heart broke as the girl traversed the worst levels of hell in her own mind, unable to reach out and hug the girl because it would break the strictly professional distance between them that was needed right now.

By the time Hermione was describing the events of the Battle of Hogwarts, and the death and destruction involved, a big indicator was sticking out in Keriann's mind; survivor's guilt. Hermione had a massive dose of it, plus some sort of compounded life debt problem with her best friend, some unrequited feelings between the two, some abandonment issues related to her parents, and who knows what-all. She'd killed, and experienced unvarnished war, and that leaves a mark that never goes away. It would take weeks for her just to untangle the issues.

The girl was a mess. She'd be a long-term project.

Finally Hermione was silent, going over the events of the battle in her mind. Reliving each second; the agonizing defeat they'd all felt when they saw Harry's "dead" body, then the grim determination that was exemplified by Neville when he defied Voldemort to his face...finally the surge of hope that was preluded by Harry's body disappearing, and a challenge shouted into the thin air. Keriann reached over and took Hermione's hand, drawing her out of her memories.

"I think we've gone far enough for today, we're just at the time allotted." Keriann said. "We've traversed a large number of years so far, and I sense that there's more to come. We'll cover the rest of your past tomorrow, same time. Depending on how long that takes, we may take a third day."

"What do we do about it though?"

"We have to know your past before we can analyze it, find the crux points and where you suffered the most damage. Once we do, we'll start talking about the meaning and effect of various events in your life."

"O-okay. It's going to be a long time, isn't it?"

"The human mind isn't a machine that can just be fixed, Hermione. It's a living, breathing thing that needs to be healed, which can take far longer."

"I understand."

"At the moment, I'm going to insist that you try not to enter into any romantic entanglements. You may of course make friends, and spend time with anybody you wish...but I don't want you to poison any relationships you may have with the toxic events of your past until you've had a chance to cleanse them. I also don't want you to go to any of the clubs you've frequented. Do you have some way to occupy your time in a healthier manner?"

"I...er, I've started playing a roleplaying game with friends."

"Georgia and her beau, yes?"

"And their friends."

"That is acceptable, especially since you're playing with very grounded people. So long as you remember that it's fantasy, and don't lose yourself in it, I encourage you to explore a different persona."

"No chance of that. We're busier saying movie quotes." she giggled, for the first time in an hour.

Keriann smiled. "It sounds like a good pastime, then. Now, I'll see you tomorrow at the same time. Right?"

Hermione held her breath, then smiled slightly. "Right." She was surprised when the older woman grabbed her in a quick hug; she had seemed so cold and distant earlier.

Keriann noticed Hermione's momentary hesitance. "I've always believed in the healing power of a good hug." she whispered, then let Hermione go to go about her day.

Keriann watched the beautiful, brilliant, broken girl walk out of the Psych department...then sat in her office, closed the door, and cried her heart out.

* * *

Hermione slumped into the comfortable armchair in her flat, exhausted physically, mentally, and emotionally from her day.

After the draining session with Keriann, she'd felt better about things. That slight euphoria of unloading nearly seven years of trouble was tempered, though, by her shift at Bock Ordered Books. Today had been an inventory day, and she was busy all day checking nearly every book in the shop against the master inventory list while Artemis watched the counter. There was a rush at lunch time which prevented her from taking a break, and the inventory had run longer than expected, which meant she didn't get home until after her usual dinner time.

She was cranky, sore, and tired. And really hungry.

She (rather carelessly, compared to her usual caution) flicked her wand at the kitchen several times, using the last of her concentration to cook some nice, fatty English food, her usual comfort staples. Roast beef, potatoes, and mixed vegetables floated out to her on a plate, and she dug in.

A few minutes later her flat door opened, and Sally padded silently in, her large, fluffy slippers quieting her steps.

"Hi, hun. Rough day?" she said, seeing the lines of care and stress on Hermione's face, and the comfort food in front of her.

"Long one."

"And hard?" Sally teased, grinning at the now blushing girl.

"Honestly, I think you're more perverted than any guy I know." she huffed.

"It just means you're a prude, that's all."

"Enough out of you." she said, turning back to her food and continuing to wolf it down with vigor.

"Tired of ramen and mac'n'cheese?" Sally said, dropping indecorously onto Hermione's couch.

"I've had the makings for a while. I figured I could splurge on a decent meal after today."

"Ahh, you had your first session with Keriann?"

"Hmm. Does everybody call her by her first name?"

"That or Doc. She _hates_ her last name. She's only ever said that her dad's family weren't nice people, and they changed it a bit when they came to the US anyways."

"That's about right. It went well, I think. We got through school years and our little camping trip, and the last battle."

"Is there anything of those years you enjoy? I've never heard you say anything nice about them."

"There's a few beautiful incidents and memories. The sorting. The ride on Buckbeak around the castle towers, with Harry and Sirius. The beginning and middle of the Yule ball. The friendships I made back then are _mostly_ intact. I'm even friends with people that were real arseholes back then, now, and I can look on even some of the rivalries fondly."

"Like your friend Draco?"

"He did a complete about-face after the war. He's actually a decent bloke now. Percy's the same, he just had to have the importance of family and friends hammered into his skull."

"You aren't really close to his family anymore, are you?"

"Not most of them." she said abruptly, and Sally knew she was getting into sensitive places. She backed off for the moment.

"So what do you want to do tonight?"

"Curl up in a ball and not think."

"Bad movie night?"

"Bad movie night." Hermione echoed, and wearily got up from her chair with her recently-empty plate. She started the dishes washing with a flick of her wand, grabbed a few cold beers from her fridge, and trudged behind Sally up to her apartment, where both settled in for some MST3k (Sally had introduced her to the show a few months after she got to the US, and she had been hooked on the reruns ever since.)

After an hour, Sally looked over at the suspiciously quiet Hermione (both of them felt MST3k was a license to heckle the movies - both thoroughly enjoyed the annual Halloween Rocky Horror showings on campus too) and saw her curled up, fast asleep. She smiled and moved over to the couch next to Hermione, gathering her friend's head and shoulders into her lap and stroking her temples while she watched the rest of the movie. She saw Hermione's lips quirk in a smile, and heard her moan softly more than once, and wondered just who was haunting her dreams...

* * *

Harry flopped down in his office chair, exhausted.

It had actually been a very productive day so far. A pair of wedding rings needed finding, a minor infestation of pixies in a Beekeeper's honey production building that he cleared out by bribing them with pizza, and a boggart removal from a home (this one hadn't had much to feed on, and was relatively weak.)

Some days he felt more like an exterminator than a detective.

Georgia poked her head in his office a few minutes later. "Hey, Harry, you busy?"

"Just getting my breath and waiting for the next case to roll in while I contemplate going home. A lot of legwork today." he said, sipping at the coffee just poured from his office pot. He grimaced, reminding himself (once again) to clean the pot and change the grounds. "What's up?"

"I talked with Doc Selwin, and apparently Hermione had her first session." Georgia said, folding herself into the rigid-backed office chair across the desk from Harry.

"How's she doing?"

"Doc said she did really well for her first time. She couldn't be specific, of course, doctor-patient privilege and all that. But she seemed to really open up, is the impression I get."

"Good."

"Doc said she was interested in talking with you as well, to either encourage you to avoid her or to enlist your help, I'm not sure which was more likely."

"Probably both. What does she need my help for?"

"My guess is, you're another pair of eyes that can keep Hermione on a steady keel."

"I'll talk to her, but I won't promise anything."

"I think that's all she wanted."

"Hmph." Harry said, nervously looking away and straightening paperwork.

"You sound excited." she said, smirking at his jittery mannerisms.

"Talking to shrinks makes me nervous." he muttered.

"Don't let the crazy out when you're talking to her then." Georgia said lightly, but her eyes were filled with concern as she studied him. He was studying his left hand now, running his thumb along his left palm. She noticed that there were subtle indentations in his left palm, formed into some sort of sigil or script in the shape of an hourglass.

She'd always liked Harry, not in the way she loved Billy but more like a big brother. He had saved all of their lives on one occasion or another, and they'd returned the favor at least once. They'd also followed him into the middle of a battle on a giant storm cloud over Lake Michigan; she thought that was proof enough that they cared about him.

But he avoided them when he could, had, in fact, since February, since the events at O'Hare and the train battle. He continued to come to the Friday game, but was more reserved. He had been actively avoiding Michael, she knew from her talks with the older man, and was more withdrawn than usual...until this Hermione situation came up. She'd seen him, and talked to him face to face and alone, more in the past few days than in the year beforehand.

She worried about him. He bore a lot of burdens. His temper was worse than it used to be. He kept too many secrets. And occasionally, she would catch a red glimmer in his dark, dark eyes, especially when he was in an angry state.

She worried about him. And she worried, now, what would happen if Hermione got too close. She thought they made a cute couple...but they could also be a very unstable mixture. And unstable mixtures were volatile, prone to exploding.

* * *

Hermione heard a voice. "Wake up, honey."

"Go'way." she murmured, pulling the sheets tighter around herself. Sally laughed smokily, then worked her hands down her friend's sides, to just above her hips. Without warning, she began to tickle the sleepy girl, drawing a high-pitched squeal as Hermione sagged off the bed in an effort to get away, getting wound up in the sheets and suspended a foot off the ground as a result.

Sally laughed again, more raucously. "Wake up then, so I don't have to tickle you again."

She heard a dull _thud_ as Hermione untangled herself from the sheet and landed on the floor, then she got unsteadily to her feet.

"Bluh. Too early." Hermione mumbled, from within a halo of tangled frizzy brown hair

"Sorry." Sally said, clearly not sorry at all. "I know you have an appointment this morning, and I didn't want you to be late. And you've still got to shower and eat breakfast."

"Hmm." Hermione mumbled, rubbing her eyes. She opened them and looked down, realizing it wasn't _her_ bed.

"Uh...Sally..."

"You fell asleep on my couch last night, and I figured it'd be easier to get you to my bed than all the way down the hall and down a flight of stairs carrying you."

"Oh. Thanks." she said, shaking sleep out of her head in a blur of frizzy brown hair.

"Go, shower. I'll make breakfast if you come back in ten minutes."

"You're a lifesaver, Sal." she said, twisting in on herself and disappearing from the room with a soft _crack_.

Sally shook her head, and turned to go to the kitchen. "I'll never get used to that."

She cooked up a quick pair of omelets, just egg, cheese, sausage, and green pepper, along with some baked hash browns that she pulled out of the oven just as Hermione popped back into her room.

She looked refreshed; her face was clearer and less pale than it had been in some time, and the dark circles that had grown under her eyes in recent times were gone. She wore clothes in a more "co-ed" style, layered long and short-sleeve tunics in earth tones under a blazer, with a soft woolen broomstick skirt and comfortable leather flats, rather than her usual black on black style.

"Sleep did you good?"

"I suppose so." she said, sitting at the table and digging into her omelet. "Mmm, this is marvelous, Sal. How you do this without magic I'll never know."

"No magic required for a good meal, dear. Just lots of practice." Sally said, giggling and then taking a bite of her own omelet.

"So you've got a session with Keriann?"

"Yeah." sighed Hermione. "Post-war stuff today. Yaaay." she said tiredly as she waved her fork in the air lazily, grimacing at the thought of confronting these memories.

"She's really trying to help you, you know that, right?" Sally asked, looking concerned.

"Oh, I know quite well. I'm not complaining about finally getting a chance to talk about it with a professional...it's the actual talking part that's driving me spare. I've never told anybody but you, Sal. Well, and the people in Britain who already know. I'm...afraid. Like I was back then. Afraid to face it."

"If there's one thing I've learned, it's that you either face your fears or they control you. You can't go through life running from place to place to escape your past. Sooner or later, you'll need to face them. You're better off doing so on your own terms."

"Mmm. My own personal boggart. Facing fear."

* * *

"Good morning, Hermione. You're looking better this morning."

"Thanks, Keriann. Although I'm still...nervous, about this, I feel a bit better too."

"I'm glad to hear it. Coffee?"

"Heh, I already had two cups. Any more, and I'll levitate right off the chair."

"Well, let's pick up where we left off, shall we? You had just described the fallout of the final battle."

"Alright. I...After V-_Voldemort_ was destroyed, I felt a bit lost. I wanted to finish school, and they were just redoing the entire last year because nobody had learned _anything_ except how to survive, but...without my boys with me, I wasn't sure if I could."

"Your boys being Harry and Ron?"

"Yes. Harry was invited to join Auror training, no NEWTs required. Ronald was invited too, and started the training.

"They were both busy, all the time...and I wasn't really sure where I should go. I had vague ambitions about making life better for magical creatures, especially the House Elves, and I thought working at the Ministry would accomplish that...so I was accepted in a job at the Department of Regulation of Magical Creatures. I had a lot of contact with Elves, as well as the Goblins, as we worked on integrating them to society more.

"It was rebuilding for pretty much every Ministry department, as a large percentage of them had been either Death Eaters or Quislings, so all the departments were short-handed. Everybody who was hired got a lot of on-the-job training."

"That can be stressful. What did you do to relieve your stress?"

"Ronald and I were going out. Everything that had happened had kind of forced it to a head. And at the same time...I felt, at the time, like I was playing a part. That I was doing what was expected."

"It's not an unusual position. You were in, what was for you, a foreign country. You were involved with the member of a large clan, and because most of your acquaintances were close to this clan, you felt obligated to be a part of it."

"No, it was something bigger than that. Like there was a plan...I've always wondered. Now that I have distance and perspective, Ronald never seems quite so attractive. Knowing from my sixth year potions class that there _are_ love potions...I have to wonder if I were being dosed. And in turn, who was dosing me?"

Keriann sat back, surprised. She hadn't thought of this...this explained a lot. Had she been chemically tricked into loving another, and thus was susceptible to drugging now because she half-expected it?

"If that were so...did you ever try to confirm or deny it?"

"By the time the thought really hit me, it was too long after for the traces to still be there. And..." she sighed, looking away. "I didn't want to destroy my image of their family once and for all. Harry's still involved there, and I just...I didn't want to be the source of more drama."

"How were you the source?"

"Oh, boy. Well... This was in March, 2001. I had been sharing a flat with Ronald for years, and his parents were starting to push for us to get married. And by his parents, I mean his mum; she's a bit domineering. Ronald and I both worked long hours, and didn't see each other much except for at night. We were sexually active, but...it never felt like I'd always heard. He was a bit selfish, and didn't put any effort into our love-making."

"I always hate to ask this, because it sounds like blame...but have you considered the possibility that you might not have been putting your all in?"

"Yes, actually. After I got here, and got involved in...other things, I found out what joy sex could be, and wondered where I'd gone wrong."

"I'm glad to see you're at least aware of it, most people would lay blame without considering their own involvement."

"Oh, believe me, I'm expert at blaming myself. So...this sort of mockery of a relationship carried on for years, after the battle...and finally, in March 2001, I came home early. I wanted to do something nice, maybe go to dinner or a movie. We did things like that so rarely that I thought it would be a treat.

"Instead, I heard voices when I walked in...then moans and cries. I walked into our bedroom, and saw Ronald with some bimbo, I didn't even know who at the time, both of them...ugh. I hate even remembering it."

"It wouldn't be painful if it wasn't important to you, Hermione." Keriann said quietly, watching the young woman tear up, rubbing at her eyes.

"I know. Well...I left. I found a bar and got rip-roaring drunk. I don't remember the night, at all, except as little blips and moments. I woke up late the next morning, in bed with somebody. It was a classmate of ours from school, but again, I couldn't tell for the life of me who he was from behind. And...we'd been busy. Very busy, from the way I ached. I got up, got my clothes, and fled."

"Do you feel guilty for your actions?"

"Yes! No? I don't know! I suppose I felt guilty that I had been with Ron all that time, then found myself with another...and god, it felt good to be as sore as I was, because it meant he'd really filled me up. Made me feel good. Made me forget. But I _didn't _feel guilty because I knew Ron had done the same, at least once, and unless I missed my guess, he'd been doing it for a while.

"Well, I avoided my apartment for the next day, by holing up at Grimmauld Place with Harry. He heard my story, and promptly got up and left. I thought he was going to go kill Ron, but instead he came back a few minutes later with a half-gallon of chocolate ice cream."

"Thoughtful of him." Keriann said, in a low chuckle.

"I thought so. I always wondered...well, it's past. What's done is done." Keriann eyed Hermione, wondering where that train of thought had been going.

"Hermione...have you _always_ had feelings for Harry?"

"Yes, no..._maybe_." Hermione sighed. "He was always my best friend. Even when we were fighting, and it was really only the broom and the book that made us argue seriously. From the day he saved my life, I know I _loved_ him. But feelings...I don't know."

"It sounds like something you'll need to discover and either act on or put behind you before you can really move on."

Hermione sighed miserably. "I suppose so.

"Anyways, the temporary ice-cream-induced euphoria only lasted as long as the late edition of the Daily Prophet...There had been pictures. Lots of them. I don't know where he had the camera, truthfully. But he, or someone else, had taken pictures of our entire night together. They only published the lowest-rated pictures, and even those were...uncomfortable to see." Hermione said, squirming nervously in her seat.

Keriann took Hermione's hand, and offered a supportive smile. Once the ice had been broken from the first session, she could offer comfort more freely.

"That newspaper report basically finished any notion of Ronald and myself being together. And I became persona-non-grata at the Burrow. Only a few Weasleys believed me; Percy, because he knew from me that Ronald had been with another, and readily believed that his own brother could do that. Harry, because he'd always been the closest. And George...George has never been the same after his twin died. He seemed like he was trying to live for two after that. And he believed me, because he knew what a prat his own brother could be.

"The problem was, the Prophet wouldn't let go of it. They kept producing people who'd claimed I'd been with them...lies, except for the one guy I was actually with on that one night...and the stories just got wilder. The problem was, the pictures that were floating around only served to prove to everyone that I was that...well, _scarlet_ was the term used often. I had forgotten, I guess, how utterly puritanical magical Britain is, despite the horrid double-standard that Ronald didn't have a peep of news about his little girlfriend."

"One of many reasons my parents left."

"I finally had enough of it...my reputation was completely ruined, my job was under review...I liquidated everything I owned. Apartment, the fancy medals and awards the Ministry gave me for the fall of Voldemort got melted down into base metals...I just kept my magical bag with all my personal possessions, after burning or giving back all of Ronald's things, and put everything else, every pence I had, into a Swiss account. I even liquidated my Gringotts account, about the only thing I regret; the Goblins were the only ones at the time who treated me kindly, along with my friends. They helped me get my plane ticket, and I left Britain. For good, probably."

Keriann decided to ask the question that had been bugging her for a while.

"Where were your parents?"


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Darkness Behind

* * *

Hermione closed her eyes, and looked down; Keriann could see tears flooding her cheeks. "I'm sorry, dear. I assumed..."

"Australia." Hermione murmured. "They were in Perth, Australia. After I had modified their memories, they weren't too happy to see me when I gave them their memories back. They were furious, actually. They stayed in Australia. Now, we're closer again, and I talk to them about every week or so...but it's still not the same. I'd pushed them away from myself, not wanting to see them hurt..."

"So you've gone all this time without real parental support?" _And given yourself a massive dose of guilt regarding them..._

"Practically. Like I said, we talk now, and we're closer again, but it took awhile to get there. They only really started talking to me again when I told them I'd left behind magical Britain for good."

"It sounds like they had their own issues with it."

"Fully justified, it would seem." she said miserably.

"Okay. I think I've got a pretty good view of your reasons for leaving Britain. Where did you go to?"

"New York. I got the immigration procedures all sorted, and looked into education. I had always wanted to get my university degree. So I looked into it. I needed a GED, plus the college placement tests. I've never been afraid of homework, studying, or paperwork, so I threw myself in head-first.

"I was practically a monk for the first three months. I had a tiny flat in the Bronx, lived off my account, and just studied like hell for school. I got accepted a bunch of places...but U of C had the best program, and it seemed...appropriate. I like Chicago, even with all the weird things that happen here. There was a small magical community in New York, but I think Chicago's got more.

"I came here in late August for orientation. It was an inauspicious beginning to school...especially with the attacks in New York two weeks after I got here. It was sobering...I could have been in one of those towers, or even just nearby. It could have been me..." she said, a faintly sickened expression on her face; Keriann could almost sense the hysteria floating behind the statement.

"A lot of people had those thoughts...many didn't survive to have them. What you should focus on is that you are _here_, and _now._" she said, trying to focus the girl away from the swirling thoughts she could sense behind the mask.

"I know." she said quietly, wiping her cheeks clumsily. "So I moved here. Started U of C. I still had trouble meeting people...but I think that's just me. It's not the place's fault. So I started with familiar ground; the Library. People in my classes. Sally was my first friend here, Sally Clyde. She was...she was superstitious enough that I didn't feel crazy telling her about magic when she first asked me. Turns out she already knew, and was involved with the supernatural community. She's the only other person here I've ever told everything."

"She sounds like a good friend." Keriann said, smiling gently.

"She is. She gives me enough rope to go out and get into trouble, but she doesn't let me get hurt...at least, she tries her best. I'm probably too prone to trouble to completely prevent it." Hermione said, chuckling sadly. "She also gives me a good scolding when I need one.

"She introduced me to clubbing. Both a good and bad thing, I guess. I've had bad experiences, but they can be mostly blamed on myself. I've also met interesting people, and made friends I could never have otherwise. It's really my fault that I react so poorly to the whole scene; I guess I'm just wired to react to the attention in a certain way."

"That's why I suggested you find new hobbies, and ways to pass time. I understand the draw to these activities; they're dark, sensual, and forbidding. There are elements of danger and risk, and it's easy to lose yourself in sensation. But I think you've had enough bad experiences to make it a once-in-awhile thing, if ever."

"I think you're right." Hermione said a bit shamefully. "I've made a fool of myself a few too many times for it to be coincidence."

"Hermione, I may think you weren't doing yourself any favors by engaging in such activities, but I'd never call you a fool. It's all too familiar a problem to me; I see many younger and even older people enjoy such things without harm. You just got a little wrapped up in it. Why don't you tell me about your first experience that went bad?"

"You mean..."

"I know you've had several experiences that could have been disastrous. I don't have details though."

"Well...I've had a couple of relationships that didn't really go anywhere with people I've met there, but those weren't necessarily going _bad_, they just didn't go where they needed to. Most of the people I've been with are still friendly. But...that night, I made a stupid mistake. He got me a drink. I don't remember much, but I do have a distinct image of Sally decking him when she confronted us. I guess she recognized whatever I was under and knew he was responsible."

"GHB?"

"That's it. Nasty stuff. I didn't feel _right_ for _weeks_. Everything tasted wrong, and I was very unsteady."

"Have you had any other incidents where you no longer felt safe?"

"Once or twice, I've felt _threatened_ by guys who didn't take a hint, but the club bouncers have always taken care of me. It's kind of sad that I know the bouncers well enough to call them friends..." she said, grimacing.

"No more than being friends with your bartender." Keriann quipped, grinning.

"The only other time I felt threatened was just a few days ago. I...I was alone at the club. Stupid idea, going without Sally, but I had this notion that I could handle myself. I've been in much more dangerous places before and handled myself just fine."

"Fighting off evil wizards in what amounts to a state of combat readiness and fighting off seductive predators in a club environment are entirely different beasts."

"I guess that's the difference. I wasn't paying attention. I had just grabbed a drink from the bar and I was checking out this cute guy" Hermione blushed, drawing a raised eyebrow from Keriann "when someone else slid up behind me. He was seductive and charming, and I felt _drawn_ to him. Now that I know what I was experiencing, it seems foolish to have let him get so far..."

"What were you experiencing?"

"Even before he laid a finger, or rather a tongue on me, he was pushing glamour on me. His aura was strongly seductive and dark, weakening my responses. I did some reading on Red Court Vampires afterwards, at work." she said, blushing embarrassedly.

"What did he do?" Keriann asked more softly.

"We went out on the dance floor, and he began kissing and licking my neck...suddenly I felt flushed and aroused, and totally unable to control my responses. The Kiss; it's a narcotic venom. He began directing us out to the doors, and I just willingly went along with him because it seemed like a good idea. I _wanted_ him.

"We got outside, and we were heading down an alley when we were stopped. At first it was just a voice, as the guy with me didn't turn around, but told him to bugger off. The stranger challenged the guy I was with, and he turned us around; it was the tall cute guy from the bar. They argued, although I don't really remember what they said...I just started feeling afraid. When the guy began clawing his way out of his skin, and revealed a leathery, bat-like form, I screamed, but couldn't run away, my legs were frozen. My skin was crawling from the knowledge that he had been human just a few minutes before, and that I had willingly gone with him.

"It went to charge the stranger, but he had some sort of wand or rod, and burnt what I now know to be a vampire to a crisp."

"Hmm. If you were anyone else, I'd wonder if you had imagined it." Keriann said, smiling supportingly to neutralize the possible insinuation.

"Believe me, I'd rather not be almost abducted by a vampire either." Hermione grimaced.

Hermione went on to describe what had happened at Harry's apartment, her conversations with Karrin Murphy, Sally, and Harry himself.

"I'll make an appointment to speak with Mr. Dresden. I want to make sure he understands a few things."

"Threatening him in place of my father?" Hermione said, a small grin quirking her lips.

"Mostly making sure he understands the effects of your treatment. To be honest, Hermione, it's not going to be easy to work these things out for yourself. I'll help wherever I can, and provide insight, but most importantly you need to exorcise your demons, and understand the ones you can't."

She just nodded, looking a bit dismal now. "I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but...I want to be _normal_. I want to be able to go out with a guy and not throw myself at him at the end of the night. I want it to be special when we do connect like that for the first time..."

"There's no yardstick or measure of _normal, _as you should already know being a human who can wield fantastic cosmic powers." Keriann quipped. "I'm actually quite pleased with Mr. Dresden, that he _didn't _take you up on the offer. So soon after your traumatic events, advancing any sort of sexual or romantic relationship would have been disastrous."

"How do you think I should approach him?" Keriann heard a sort of beseeching question in there; she wasn't unfamiliar with this sort of request for advice.

"I think you should be his friend. Start slow. Have lunch with him, go to movies, play games. Don't let yourself stay over at his apartment, for any reason, unless you _do_ become romantically attached. I know that these suggestions may be almost impossible to follow, especially if you've already started to become attached...but just try. I think you'll find any future relationship more fulfilling if you can avoid carrying a great deal of baggage into it."

"So when do we start with the actual fixing?" she asked hopefully.

"Give me the rest of the week to figure out where we'll go from here. You've given me a lot to think about, especially with the things I don't quite understand. I'll want to speak with Mr. Dresden to get his take on some things, then next week starting Monday, we'll begin our actual sessions.

"A word of warning; the things we go over in our sessions are going to hurt. I'm going to ask you to examine your motives, your actions, and their consequences in a deeper way than you're used to. We're going to use some various mental exercises to help you work through potentially damaging memories."

"I understand, Keriann. Believe me, I want to banish some of those demons just as much as you want to." Hermione said earnestly.

"Wonderful. Now, do you work the rest of the day?"

"Nope, day off."

"Then go out, and have fun, dear. See if any friends are available, go on tours, visit historical sites...have lunch out, see movies, _something_ to brighten you up. Remember, no clubs for a while."

"I will. Thanks again." Hermione said, getting up as Keriann did; she wasn't surprised by the hug she received this time around.

"Have yourself a good day, dear."

* * *

Harry looked up from the billing paperwork before him (this was one of those times he would kill for a computer that didn't die a horrible death from his presence, or even a simple billing calculator; doing billing and finances by hand was like pulling teeth with rusty pliers) at the knock on his office door.

"Come in." The door opened with a squeal, and in walked a familiar face.

"Hi, Harry." She looked beautiful; her hair was loose, and seemed to flow across her shoulders in waves. Although not the tight little black satin dress, her clothes looked good on her; layered tops in complementary earth-tone patterns and a corduroy blazer over a woolen pleated skirt that had a delicate tartan pattern in the wool. She wore no makeup, but truthfully didn't need it.

"Hermione! What brings you to my humble office?"

"Oh, I just got out of a session, and I thought I'd see if you wanted lunch."

"Hmm...do I want lunch...I don't know, there's all those flights of stairs to go down...then I'd have to find parking for the Beetle..." Harry said, drawing out the question; his face was deadpan, but his eyes were alight with humor.

Hermione put up with it for about 10 seconds, her glare narrowing at Harry, then swatted him on the head lightly. "Enough of that, you prat! Do you want to go, or not?" she said, the grin belaying her words.

Harry let out a belly laugh. "Okay, you've sold me. Where do you want to go?"

"Hmm...I hadn't thought that far ahead, honestly."

"Burgers? Italian? Greek?"

"I haven't had gyros in _forever_."

"Greek it is then." Harry pontificated, closing up the account books and storing them in a shallow hidden drawer in the desk. She smiled brightly as he held out his arm pompously, and she threaded hers through it. They climbed down the stairs, 7 flights' worth, and hit the streets, heading for the Greek family restaurant and sandwich place down the street.

"So how did you get to Chicago originally?" she asked, looking up at her new...her new friend.

"To be honest, I'm not sure. I...well, I didn't have a good childhood. You could probably guess that, though?"

"I made it a point to never assume anything, but I was wondering..."

"I grew up in a string of orphanages and foster homes. My dad died when I was 6, my mom when I was born. I remember my dad, quite a bit actually. He was a stage magician; the Astounding Dresden."

"But he wasn't a wizard?"

"Not a lick of magic in the man. We struggled enough that I'm pretty sure he wasn't the best magician around either. But he was a _good _man. That was more important."

"Something he passed down, clearly." she murmured, and he pinked at the cheeks.

"_Anyways_. I started discovering and manifesting magic when I was 10 or so. My first bit of magic...we were doing a track and field event in school. I _really_ wanted to win one. I was doing the long jump, and I _pushed_ behind me, and went about 5 feet further than the record. Broke my leg on impact. I've still got that medal though."

"That's a lovely story." she said, smiling. "I don't really remember the _first_, rather what I did most often; I could call books or things to myself. From high shelves, closed cabinets, wherever. My parents were always confused about how I kept getting books from the adult shelves."

"Just how _adult_ were these books?" he asked, and she blushed cherry red.

"My parents found out when I asked once what a manhood was, and how it could be throbbing." she murmured embarrassedly. "My mum started hiding her guilty pleasure books more thoroughly after that."

Harry looked at her agape, stunned for a moment, then broke into laughter, a warm, belting laugh that gave her a warm feeling in her chest. She swatted him on the arm good-naturedly, and chuckled herself, letting out the tension that had been building as she told him that deep, dark secret, then looped her arm in his again.

"When did you get to Chicago?"

"When I was 19. For three years before that, I lived in Hog Hollow, Missouri with my second master, Ebenezar McCoy. He's a member of the Senior Council of the White Council now, but he was just a member at the time. He took me on when I was 16, after..." he swallowed thickly. "After I had killed my previous master. The Council placed me under the Doom of Damocles."

She shivered, but gripped him tighter, much to his surprise. "The Doom of Damocles?" She didn't like the sound of that. Something niggled at the back of her mind..._Damocles? What is that from?_

"If I broke another of the Laws, they would execute me." he said darkly.

She held one hand to her mouth, shocked. "Merlin's blood..."

"If someone hadn't vouched for me and put me in Eb's care, it would have happened sooner."

"Why?"

"The Seven Laws. Break any one of them, and it's a short haircut with a sharp blade."

"Maybe later today, we'll sit down and you can go over the Seven Laws with me. I don't feel like getting my head chopped off." she said, forcing lightness into her voice.

"I have my doubts they would go after you, even if you did do something against them; you're probably covered under that...ICW, or whatever you call it. Most of the lawbreakers I've ever heard of were usually kids, and were more or less ignorant of other magic until it was too late. I'll shoot Eb a call though, have him check it out. If the Council wanted to push things, they could get nasty. It would be good to have him as an ally on this.

"Anyways. For three years I lived on Eb's farm. He taught me some about magic, but more about how to live. Things like pride in my work, thinking things through, and the value of hard work. Looking before you leap. Thinking things through. Not like all of the lessons have taken, but..." he said, looking a bit chagrined. She giggled, finally breaking the pall of darkness that had settled over them at mention of his past. She noticed that he didn't dwell on the years before, and figured she'd get more out of him later.

"So you moved here?"

"Yep. I didn't really know what I wanted to do...but I knew I wanted to help people. I started by working with Nick Angel; he runs a detective service called Ragged Angel Investigations. Lost children is Nick's specialty."

"An admirable cause."

"A lot of it was much of the same as I do now. Lost items, unusual cases that normal PI's didn't touch. They didn't blow up as big until I had my own PI license and office though. That took a few years."

"Hard work?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Long hours. Shitty pay. Very little respect from clients. The constant fear of death. Horrible monsters coming at you. Ask Nick Angel sometime about his success rate, he doesn't find more than 1 in maybe 3 kids, and he's good at what he does. He doesn't even get the horrible monsters."

She frowned. "Why do it then?"

"Because it needs to be done. Because once in awhile," he squeezed her arm subtly "I can help somebody. Because it's the right thing to do."

She pinked slightly in the cheeks as she felt a flurry of emotions, and looked down in embarassment. Her heart swelled at the thought that despite his sacrifices and pain, he kept going, trying to make the world a little brighter. She knew she wasn't supposed to be doing this, and struggled with herself, trying to squash down the feelings...she fell _hard_.

He looked down at her, seeing the conflicting look on her face; she was at war with herself about something.

"Penny for 'em?"

"How can you be such a good man? After all the shite that's been thrown at you..."

He was silent for a while as they walked, and she began to get nervous that she'd offended him. "In the end," he finally said, slowly, "we're responsible for our own choices. I could get very nasty very quickly...in fact, I've done so before. I'm not always a nice man. But...if I don't take responsibility for what I've done in the past, who will?"

They were silent the rest of the way to the restaurant.

* * *

Papa Nicolaus' was a small, single-proprietor family restaurant that sold traditional Greek fare as well as some of the "Americanized" meals that were popular in the Windy City. Despite being only one location, it was one of the more popular Greek restaurants in this part of Chicago.

Anneliese Stephanidis, the daughter of the owner, was on register that day when two young people stepped up, standing a little too close to be just friends. Her old heart warmed to see the two, hovering close enough together as to be connected.

"Welcome, dears. What can I get for you today?"

The tall man glanced down at the little brunette, and she nodded.

"Two gyros combos, the works on both. Large coke for me, and..."

"Iced Tea for me." the girl answered, a faint British accent lilting her speech.

"For here."

"Two gyros specials, coming up. Be about 5 minutes." she said, taking the money the man held out and making change, then handing them a claim ticket. "Your order'll be up down there."

They walked off, towards the counter where the food was served, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the brunette nod and break off to head to the condiment station, where she neatly piled napkins, straws, and all the accoutrements and rejoined the young man, lacing her hand in his discretely and glancing up at him with a shimmer in her eyes.

"Young love." she whispered, smiling slightly, before turning to the next customer; the old man had a wistful smile on his face, having seen the interaction between the two.

* * *

Harry and Hermione dug into their gyros, both rather hungry from the mental exertions they'd put forth today. They ate steadily for a few minutes, then, once the initial hunger was gone, slowed down to enjoy the meal.

"This was such a good idea." Hermione said, smiling. Harry smiled at her, and noticed the little drop of gyro sauce on the corner of her mouth. He signalled by wiping at his own mouth. "You've got a little something..."

"Oh!" she said, wiping her mouth with her napkin, before laughing. "Who am I kidding, it'll only get back on there when I eat more."

"Mmhmm, lost cause." She rolled her eyes at him and flung some bits of lettuce at him. She saw a glimmer of power, and his hand flattened out; the lettuce stopped a few inches from his smirking face.

"Cheater." she said, sticking out her tongue. She caught movement behind him and looked over his head, subtly drawing her wand from her sleeve. He saw the motion and began drawing in will; she felt the flow of power going past her and wondered at just how strong he was, if she could feel a tangible aura... He just had his fingers on his blasting rod when a dry, amused voice flitted past his ears.

"Fancy seeing you here, Dresden."

All at once, she felt the power flow stop, and saw him let a breath out. He looked over his shoulder, and smirked. "Oh, it's you."

Hermione quirked an eyebrow, and looked more closely at the three people standing behind Harry. One was built like a troll, beefy and tall. He had a shock of reddish-orange hair that wouldn't go amiss at a Weasley family reunion. The tall, statuesque blonde woman standing on the other side had her own smirk firmly in place. Hermione had a brief vision of the woman wearing Norse armor and wielding a huge battleaxe, but it cleared quickly. Both bodyguards, as that must be what they were, wore expensive suits and little to no jewelry. Neither had visible weaponry, but she assumed they were armed.

The man in the center looked like a businessman. He wore an expensive but somewhat casual suit, had a little diamond earring glimmering on one ear, and an insufferable smirk on his face. His eyes, green as an American dollar, glittered with humor and something a bit darker.

"Go away. I was having a good day before this." Harry said, and Hermione's lips curled in a grin.

"Come, now, Dresden. Let's not be rude." he said, smoothly sitting down in the chair to Hermione's right, Harry's left. "John Marcone."

She tentatively reached over and shook his hand. "Hermione Granger."

"Ahh, a London expatriate. How _enchanting_." he said, his white teeth catching a glimmer of sunlight. She took that to mean that he knew she was a wizard in some fashion; it seemed the man couldn't talk without speaking in innuendo. How he knew she was a wizard, though, was disturbing.

"I didn't know you liked Greek food, Johnny." Harry said, grinning maliciously. Hermione noticed that both the tall blonde and the giant redhead had shifted position a bit, probably to a perceived threat to their boss. Marcone sighed heavily.

"Must we always argue, Dresden? I seem to recall a situation or two where you were quite pleased to have my assistance. As it were, I quite enjoy this restaurant. The owner is a dear friend of mine."

"There goes the neighborhood." Harry muttered. "Well, in any case, we were having a private lunch, so would you kindly shove off?"

"There now, isn't that so much nicer when you're polite?" Marcone said, his grin turning feral. "Miss Granger, these are my associates, Miss Gard and Mr. Hendricks."

"I didn't know associates was spelled b-o-d-y-g-u-a-r-d-s." Hermione quipped, drawing a snort from Harry and a slight frown from Marcone. She thought she heard a single bark of a laugh from one of the two behind Harry, but neither showed any reaction when she looked.

"It's a dangerous world out there. I often find need for bodyguards, usually when Dresden is involved somehow."

"You know, somehow I don't doubt that." Hermione said, drawing an indignant squawk from Harry, although his eyes held a threat of pleasant retribution. "However, Harry was correct; we were quite enjoying a private lunch. So, I don't mean to be rude, but..."

"See, Dresden? Polite. I'll gladly leave you and your beau to your lunches, Miss Granger. I merely wanted to catch up with an old _business associate_, and thank you for your...forbearance in the _delayed delivery_ of the package."

"See ya, so long, don't let the door hit 'ya."

Marcone rolled his eyes, before turning to leave, followed and flanked by his bodyguards. The blonde woman winked at Hermione as she left.

Hermione leaned across the table. "I hope I didn't just make a huge arse of myself?" she said, uncertainty written across her face.

"You did better than I did my first meeting with him. I ended up burning down his club." Harry said, deadpan.

"Okay, I probably did a bit better. Who is he anyways?"

Harry's eyes got a bit wider. "You messed with John Marcone and you didn't even know who he was?"

"Uh-oh."

"He's a _businessman_. with interests in things like paying off the cops, prostitution rings, gambling rackets...and pretty much every other crime in Chicago. He came in a few years ago, and piece by piece, took over the major crime syndicates. He took down the Vargassi crime family pretty single-handedly." Hermione got a bit white as he talked. "The only thing you can really count on is that he'll be very polite when he tries to kill you."

"That's not very comforting."

"Relax." he said, with a comforting smile on his face. "Like I said, you didn't make him angry. I've seen him angry. You piqued his interest though. I'd expect to be watched for a while. He might even make a job offer. He did the same for me once. You've kept your magic so quiet the whole time you're here, that I'm not certain he's even heard of you."

"That makes me feel a _little_ better." she murmured, taking one of his hands. "What say we finish eating, go back to your office..." she leaned forward, arching her neck slightly "and you familiarize me with the Seven Laws." she finished, smirking cheekily.

"Tease." he murmured, shaking his head resignedly as a devilish grin grew on her face.

* * *

The grin was gone about an hour later, and she looked a bit pale.

"For the life of me I can't figure out how you've managed to break five of the Seven Laws." Harry said, wryly. He was a little shaken himself; but confused as well; she wasn't a psychotic dark witch, so how had she managed it?

"Most of them I can blame on the insanity of the moment. Legilimency, the Imperius, and memory charms are all attributable to the war, as is the _first_ law." she said, giving a tiny shiver. He opened his arms, and she sank gratefully into his lap, sitting across his legs, and leaning heavily against his shoulder.

"Transforming others?"

"Basic education at school. Sixth or seventh year stuff." she mumbled into his neck.

"That tells me that there's some factor here we're not understanding. I think your method of magic is different."

"Why do you say that?" she said, looking up now.

"The backlash from continually breaking even more than 1 law should leave you a gibbering mess, or an unrelenting warlock. You're neither. I have enough issues from _accidentally_ breaking the first."

"Well, I wouldn't count out the mess part." she murmured, again buried against his neck.

"Well, maybe. But even so...I think your magic isn't as...involved, emotionally, as mine can be. To do any of these things, I would really have to _mean _it, think that it's the right thing to do. The only one that's more or less possible to do by accident is killing, because it's easy to let fire go out of control, or to miss a target with a spell. But the sixth law? How did you manage _that_?"

She grinned despite herself. "Time turner. It's a device that takes you back a number of hours. They create closed loops of time; a grandfather paradox generally can't happen, although you have to be careful not to meet yourself."

"What could you possibly need that for?" he asked, dumbfounded. She blushed, turning her face into his shoulder, mumbling something.

"Sorry? Didn't hear that." he said, smirking.

"Extra classes. And saving our lives at least once." she mumbled more loudly. He chuckled.

"I'll call Ebenezar, see if I can meet up with him soon. I'm sure there's a way to handle this that doesn't end badly."

"I hope." she whispered, eyes closed. "I quite like my head where it is."

"So do I." he murmured, kissing her forehead. He leaned back, lost in thought for a while, and stroked her back. He felt a slight rumbling against his chest, and realized...she was purring!

"How is it that you're purring?" he murmured, and felt her chuckle against him.

"Bad reaction to a potion."

"Something tells me there's more to that story."

"It also includes a bloody great snake." she said, a grin forming on her face. "I'll tell you all the stories some time."

"I'll hold you to that."


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: And Ahead

* * *

Hermione poured herself into work and keeping herself busy the next two days (only hearing from Harry once - he called her to let her know he was on a case, but would meet her at Billy and Georgia's Friday - and Sally a few times when she brought care packages of lunch and dinner), but as evening rolled around on Friday, she began to get excited. She had never thought she could get excited for this particular activity, but as she thought more about the fun she'd had with the group, she realized that it wasn't necessarily the game; it was the people.

She made a stop at a gaming store before she headed over to the game, picking up a set of dice (a nice semi-transparent set with red and gold coloration, in a fuzzy velvet bag) and, on the spur of the moment, found a little figurine that would be an adequate miniature for her Pixie bard.

She stepped into a darkened alley, and after hesitantly putting up a notice-me-not charm (still leery of the Seven Laws) apparated to an alley outside Billy and Georgia's. She walked up to the building, and was about to go up the stairs, when she saw a familiar tall person climbing out of his car.

"Harry!" she said, running over and wrapping him in a big hug, which drew a groan of pain. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't see..."

"S'alright." he hissed, gingerly holding his ribs. "Some fae shenanigans going on. I got a troll sprung on me when I figured out where they were hiding."

"How badly are you hurt?" she asked, concern written all over her face.

"It'll heal." he said, but she could see the tightness in his shoulders as he walked up the stairs with her.

"You moron, why don't you go to the hospital?"

"No hospitals. I could kill somebody entirely by accident when their life support dies."

"Let's see if we can hold the game for a few minutes. I can help with some of it."

They got up the stairs and were greeted at the door by Billy; his nostrils flared as he detected something...

"Harry, you're bleeding."

"Hi, Billy, nice to see you too. Beautiful day today!" Harry snarked, but Hermione saw the set of his shoulders tightening by the minute. Billy backed away, a tight smirk on his face at Dresden's usual obstreperousness regarding injury.

"Go into the extra room and take off your coat." Hermione ordered, taking charge. "Now, mister." she said when he started to look rebellious.

"Yes, mum." he muttered, then smirked as he limped towards the extra room. Hermione turned to the others, who all had nearly uniform amused looks at the unexpected authority she'd wielded.

"Do you have any healing supplies? I think I'll need a few things."

Georgia reached into a cabinet and pulled out a large tackle-box. "I think all of Dresden's friends have a kit like this now. The standard emergency kits just don't cut it with him." she said ruefully.

Hermione grabbed the kit and almost keeled over to one side, before she put a silent Featherweight charm on the kit surreptitiously (Georgia knew she was a witch, but she wasn't sure about the others). It became manageable, and she marched into the side room.

Harry had taken off the coat, painfully it looked like from the time it took and the grimace on his face, and was in the process of doffing his shirt.

"Oh, for crying out loud." she muttered, and cast a quick spell that removed the shirt without jostling him. He sat down on the bed, and groaned.

"Nice spell. Does it remove more clothes than that?"

"You'll have to wait and find out, mister. Unless you want me to test it on you in front of everybody else?" she said, still annoyed with his cavalier attitude toward his own injuries. He reminded her _so_ much of her _other_ Harry...the boy to whom _fine_ meant _not dead yet_.

She laid a towel down behind him and not-so-gently pushed him down, casting a cushioning charm behind him. He groaned again as his bruised back hit the towel; she could see the bruises and probably cracked ribs all the way up his front. His arms were mostly fine, although there was a bit of a pressure bruise around one wrist in the shape of a very large hand, and his knuckles were bloodied and raw.

She began casting a variety of healing charms; she'd become quite proficient at putting people back together during their long camping trip in 1997-8, and knew quite a few tricks for easing pain and bruising.

By the time she told him to flip over, he was feeling much better about the world; numbing and bruise-relief charms doing their work on his battered chest, along with bone-knitting charms for his ribs. She went a bit slower on his back, especially the huge bar of bruises across his spine at an angle; he was probably thrown into a pole or barrier; it took some more serious healing charms to repair the damage. She ran her hands over old scars, settled deep into his skin, and then along his arms.

The mood, originally very clinical as she had muttered imprecations about his tendency to injure himself (she knew she sounded like Madame Pomphrey at the moment), suddenly turned sensual as she traced decades-old scars on his wrists; circular impressions around the veins and mottled scar tissue caused by barbed cuffs.

"What happened to your wrists?" she murmured softly.

"You know how you shouldn't accept bargains or gifts from the Fae?"

"Mmhmm. Or really, bargains among non-human magical creatures of any kind."

"I was _really_ stupid as a 16 year old." he murmured, relaxing as the tension from the pain faded away.

"What Fae could do this?"

"The Leanansidhe." Hermione gasped silently, one hand to her mouth. She had heard of that particular fae; one said to be right up there with Mab herself. She took blood from mortals in return for inspiration; a lot of poets, bards, and artists were said to have died early because of her. She was the inspiration for a lot of legends and myths regarding blood sacrifice.

"How'd you get tangled up with her?"

"She's my godmother."

"Oh, Harry." she said, sadly. "Okay, get up. I need to fix your face last."

"I was born with it." he said, trying to lighten the mood.

"I'm sure those giant purpling bruises are a common birthmark." she quipped back. She gently ran her wand along his skin, and he felt the pressure easing, the pain subsiding.

"Damn. Whatever that is you're doing...sign me up."

"I'll be sure to put together a big first aid kit for you, Harry." she said, smirking, as she gathered up the bloodied towels that had been created by her treatment on his knuckles. She put them in a bin she cast the Impervious charm on, and after shielding it, cast a quick Incendio.

He nodded approvingly at the proper treatment of blood, then slid back into his shirt (he noticed it was clean, and practically starched like it was fresh from the dry cleaner.) "Laundry spell?" he asked, wondering why someone would go to the trouble of casting a spell just for laundry.

"You can't very well go back in there in a sweaty and bloody shirt." she said primly.

"God no. Imagine what they'd say?" he said, a grin playing on the edges of his mouth. She swatted at his arm, but had a grin of her own; he must be feeling better if he was willing to snark at her (although she got the feeling he could snark at Death, as He came to collect his soul; or just spit in His eye). They got up and exited the room, Dresden heading for the table, and Hermione towards the cabinet to put away the first aid kit. Georgia ran an eye over them skeptically, but not seeing any evidence of hanky-panky on either one, sat down with Hermione to join the table.

The others gawped at Harry; they'd seen him looking beaten to hell like he did when he entered, but they'd never seen such a transformation; twenty minutes ago he looked like 20 miles of bad road, and now he looked...well, normal.

"What sort of healing was that, anyways?" Billy asked, looking astonished. Andi smirked, and began to sing softly:

"_And when I get this feeling,  
"I need sexual healing..."_

The others looked at each other for a moment with shocked faces, then burst into laughter, leaving Harry and Hermione looking embarrassed and red-faced.

"If only it were that simple." Hermione muttered, setting off Georgia (who was sitting next to her.)

"Sign me up for _that_." Harry replied, smirking now that he'd shoved the blush down.

After ordering pizza, they set off on another adventure.

* * *

The adventure was over, the enemy slain, the pizza devoured (as only hungry wolves could), and the treasure divided. Hermione stretched and yawned; it was late, and she'd been working all day before the game.

"Tired?" she heard Harry chuckle.

"A bit. It's been a long week." she murmured, as she leaned against his shoulder where he sat, closing her eyes in comfort. Georgia watched the two interact, the way both constantly occupied each other's personal space; it was something she'd never seen Dresden do before. Even with Susan, he kept a very cool exterior.

"Mm. Time to go home." she murmured, and gathered up her things. "See you all next week." she said, and the others bid farewell. Harry got up and accompanied her into the hall.

"See you soon?" she asked, giving him a tight hug.

"Don't know. I've got to see what the fallout of this case was. I'll call you soonest." he said, murmuring the last into her hair.

"'Kay. Night." she whispered, then stepped a few feet away, turned on her heel, and disappeared with a _crack_, like she was sucked through a tube.

He shook his head. He'd been watching with his senses, trying to figure out how it worked, and it still eluded him.

Billy popped his head out of the door. "She left already?"

"Yep." Harry said, going back into the apartment.

"She moves fast." Billy said, in some surprise.

"You have no idea."

* * *

Hermione sleepily undressed and pulled on a camisole and sleep pants. She set the alarm wards, turned out the lights and crashed in her bed, exhausted from a day of work and from the rather extensive healing she'd had to do to get Harry to an acceptable state. She guessed this would be a regular state of affairs.

She woke abruptly some hours later, feeling an odd tingle in the back of her mind.

It had been so long since she'd even had the alarm ward set off that she didn't immediately recognize it's source. When she did, though, she leapt into action. She drew the wand from under her pillow and immediately Disillusioned herself, feeling the odd sensation of an egg being cracked over her head, drizzling down over her. She stepped to the corner of her room, watching the door.

The door opened slowly, and she saw a dark figure move quickly; it was absolutely dark in the room, except for the night light in the corner; he moved without care, like he could see in the dark.

There was a snarl as he saw her bed was empty, then he stopped, looking around the room.

"I can smell you, little girl. Your fear is _intoxicating._"

She felt the dark pull of a glamour again, like she'd felt a week ago when the first vampire tried to kidnap her. This time, her occlumency shields held easily, and she maintained her focus on the Disillusionment; it wasn't perfect, but so long as she held still, the darkness of the room would cloak her.

It might be moot, though, as the intruder didn't seem to be lying. He was creeping closer with every step, following a scent trail.

Not wanting it to get anywhere near her, she fired off a powerful stunner; it wouldn't _kill_ a normal mortal, but it was strong enough to need an equally strong Enervate to bring the person around, otherwise they might not _ever_ wake up.

The bolt of red energy slammed into him and threw him into the wall, leaving a man-shaped impression, but he didn't fall. He shook his head, seemingly trying to keep his balance, but showed no signs of being actually stunned.

"Be gone, vampire!" she said, trying for more confidence than she felt; in reality, she was terrified, remembering what the last one had done to her without effort.

"Oh-ho, little precious one." it said, looking right at her now. "Not so helpless...I see why my kinsman failed. I however, will not."

"Have it your way. _Lumos Solarius!"_ she incanted, the tip of her wand projecting a virtual wall of sunlight, as the creature lunged at her. He was caught in the stream of light, and to her horror, she saw him actually burning away like parchment; it was as if he was caught in the stream of a flamethrower. She just thought it would knock him back, scare him away.

The crisping corpse hit her, knocking her to the ground. She threw it off and backed into a corner opposite, thrown into a panic after her carefully ordered defense of her apartment. She retained just enough focus for one thing...

"_Expecto Patronum_. Find Harry Dresden. Harry...Help me!" she said, whimpering the last as she felt her mind succumb to panic. The silvery otter streamed away, vanishing through a wall.

* * *

Harry stood in his lab, trying to rub sleep out of his eyes.

"So you think that this little nymph's fairy ring is broken?"

"You dusted the iron filings, right? You broke their power and banished the leader, right?" Bob asked, eye-lights glowing.

"Yep."

"Then they're gone. Mostly."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Bob." Harry muttered.

A silvery white creature that he identified as an otter swam into view in front of him. Harry looked at the little spirit with curiosity, Bob with clinical intensity.

"Harry! _Help me!_"

Hells bells. He knew that voice.

_"Bob, hold down the fort."_ he yelled, jumping up the lab stairs in two great steps and vaulting through the opening, startling Mister as he banged past towards the door. He grabbed the staff out of its rack and banged the door open, barely remembering to shut it as he jumped through.

Harry wouldn't remember the drive to Hyde Park afterwards, blessing the fact that it was 2am, and there was nobody else on the road. He had the feeling he'd probably be getting a few notices from traffic cameras in the next few days, but he didn't rightfully care.

He pulled up to the building he'd visited once before, and got out of the car, neglecting to close the door in his rush. Staff in hand, he started building power as he hit the stairs.

"Why in hell does she live on the fourth floor?" he muttered as he pounded up the stairwells, cutting off 3 steps at a time and leaping the railings to dodge the stairwells.

He burst out of the stairwell on her floor and rushed up the hall, panting lightly. He had a tension headache already, from the power buildup in his skull, and the door that hung open shifted that into overdrive.

"Hermione!" he bellowed as he ran into the sitting room; nothing disturbed, which could be both good and bad. The bathroom door hung open slightly, but that looked natural more than anything else.

Only one place she could be.

He drew will into the staff, and caught the scent of sulfur as the runes carved into the staff lit up in red fire.

A detached corner of his mind noticed, and filed it away. _That's not normal._

As he cleared the open door to her bedroom, he took in the scene before him, and the staff immediately stopped glowing.

A charred, blistered corpse was flung half against the wall on the far end of the room, and in the opposite corner huddled a shivering figure. The bedclothes were scattered, and the wall had a large man-shaped dent in it.

The shivering figure untangled her limbs and rocketed across the room, burying her face in his chest and wrapping arms and legs around him.

_She just can't catch a break_. He sank to the ground, still holding onto her, as she sobbed into his t-shirt.

Through her choking sobs, he picked up a few clues; "Vampire" and "partner", along with "sunlight" stuck out the most, as the rest were muffled.

That was a good sign; this wasn't likely some simple human home invader she'd just burnt to ash, but a Red Court Vampire, probably working with the fellow he'd turned into the Human Torch outside Gothique. The Council wouldn't give a rat's ass, and more than likely would just like to know how she did it (or even try to recruit her), as it would put them on an equal footing with the Vamps. SI, on the other hand, would likely have issues with it, as it would put _another_ humanoid (but not _human_) corpse in the morgue. Burnt to a crisp in her apartment, with no explanation as to how it was done (as the room wasn't damaged at all). To be honest, the scene looked better than one of his usually did; if he'd been here, there'd be substantial property damage, and they'd likely be trying to make sure the building didn't burn down. Here...it just looked like one of those odd spontaneous combustion cases.

There were several people at the door, he noticed now; chief among them the dark-haired Sally, who sent the rest of them home imperiously, saying she'd make sure the authorities were called.

She stepped into the room, closing the door (which refused to latch, indicating a forced entry) and stepped closer, seeing her friend wrapped around Dresden.

"She's alright, at least as far as I can see. If I can get her unwound, can you check her for injuries? I should call Murphy and get her over here to take care of paperwork." he muttered.

"Okay." Sally said, wearing a rather skimpy black tank top and silk pants under a black silk kimono. She started rubbing Hermione's back, and got her looking up and away from Harry's chest. With supreme patience, she managed to get the girl unwound from around Harry (although it was more likely she employed some sort of _supernatural friendship power_, or possibly an authoritative look, which amounted to the same thing).

Hermione finally stood from Harry's lap, keeping touch with his hands for as long as possible before Sally gently led her to the bathroom and closed the door.

Harry got to his feet, wearily, and called Murphy.

* * *

"SI, Lieutenant Murphy."

"_Hi Murph, it's me. I'm glad you're awake."_

"Oh, god. What fresh hell are you involved in now, Dresden?" Karrin asked warily.

"_Hermione just torched a vampire home intruder."_

Karrin just sighed. "I'll be over in a bit with Stallings. He's the best at covering scenes like this."

"_Roger. Her door is all cracked to hell, and I'm hesitant about her staying here. Problem is..."_

"You don't want to wake up to me seeing you two in bed again."

"_Something like that."_

Karrin sighed again. "Fine. She can stay in my extra room until her door is fixed."

"_I owe you one, Murphy."_

"I count about two hundred fifty favors so far, Dresden."

"_Wouldn't surprise me. See you soon."_

"Bye." she said abruptly, slamming down her phone. She got up from her office desk, and waved Stallings in.

The tall, Tom Selleck look-alike sat down at the chair across from hers.

"Dresden?" he asked, knowing that there was nothing else that could rile Murphy up in that way, that _quickly_.

"Dresden. And his little _girlfriend."_ Karrin said, speaking with a little more venom than strictly necessary. Despite the handicap of his Y chromosome, Stallings caught the annoyance, and wondered just what this new girl in Dresden's life had done to piss off Murphy. _He _didn't piss off his boss, knowing what she could be like. God save whoever did so intentionally.

"What's the address?" he asked stoically. She rattled it off, and he got up. "You coming?"

"I'd better, make sure the scene doesn't get any more fucked up than it is." Murphy said wearily.

* * *

They took Stallings' big Crown Vic; it was one of the police models, but unmarked and in a non-standard color. They made good time; with Stallings' bubble machine on the roof, no cop would pull them over.

There were no other cops there; of _course_ Dresden wouldn't call the uniforms. He preferred dealing with her little fiefdom of the Chicago PD, mostly because SI only thought he was insane _half_ of the time.

Karrin groaned as she got out of the car, noticing Dresden's little shitbox sitting to one side, door wide open. She nudged it shut, making sure it wasn't still _running_. She was due to be off duty in another hour...why did Dresden have to call her this late? Moreover, why did this girl have to have problems this _late_?

She could see her sleep being interrupted _again_.

Stallings fell into step beside her, standing at least two heads over her. The proverbial odd couple, they strode into the building. They took the elevator, to the floor she'd visited about a week before,

The door to her apartment was hanging open, and Stallings immediately knelt down to check the lock and bolt; both were jimmied out, practically the whole side of the doorframe was split off by something with a great deal of strength.

Karrin strode in, thankfully seeing that Dresden was standing up, without the Granger girl draped over him. No, that dubious honor belonged to the girl they'd met last week, Sally.

Dresden indicated the bedroom, and she followed him. He pulled the door to behind them, using a cloth to protect the prints.

"I got a messenger spell of some kind from her, while I was talking to Bob. It just said my name and 'Help me!'. I drove over here, probably getting half a dozen tickets, and ran up the stairs, alerting everybody in the building to something happening. I got in, saw the charred body. She was crouched over there." he pointed to the corner. "She got up and hugged me again. Sally was shooing away neighbors who had been woken up, and she came in, somehow getting Hermione to let go of me so she could check for injuries."

"She hurt?"

"Wasn't even touched. She blew him to hell with a Sunlight spell."

"Christ." Murphy said, examining the scorched remains of the vampire.

"Hmm. I actually appreciate her restraint here. Just imagine what would happen if _I_ was here."

"I'd be talking with the Fire Chief about why the building burnt down." she said wryly.

"Yep."

"So she thought he was connected to the one you cold-cocked?"

"Apparently she caught him monologuing; he could sense her in the room even though she was invisible."

"Handy spell to have."

"Doesn't work well on creatures with excellent scent, but it wasn't a bad idea."

"She waited for him? She ambushed him?"

"She just didn't want to be found, I think. When he started stalking her, she hit him with what she called a stunner first, which didn't work. Then he lunged, and she baked him."

"Crispy." she said with a grimace.

"You'll have to ask her for some details, but she'll have about the same story. You're sure you can have her over at your place?" he asked, one eyebrow raised. She wasn't sure if he was picking up on her hesitance over the girl, considering his chronic obliviousness about women, or if he was just confirming.

"Yeah, she can have the guest room while she needs it. She should consider some modification to the locks here if she stays in this apartment. We have no idea if there're any more rogues connected to these two." she said, trying to keep her voice even. Truthfully, she wasn't thrilled with the idea of a houseguest, especially _this_ houseguest.

"Yeah. I'll talk with Michael, he can suggest some enhancements."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Nope."

"Fine. Say goodbye to your lady friend, then _go home_, Dresden."

"Sure." he said, frowning. She _definitely_ had a problem with Hermione. He'd give Georgia a call tomorrow.

* * *

After seeing Harry ushered out by Karrin, Sally sat with Hermione as she was grilled by the police woman. She seemed harsher now, than she had been the first time they met. She wasn't sure where the hostility came from, and she was glad that Hermione was too distraught to care at the moment.

"Go ahead and get things for a few days, Hermione. You're crashing at my house. Dresden apparently wants you behind a threshold right now."

"Pardon?" Sally asked. She was aware of the concept of a threshold, but wanted to hear the logic.

"Dresden asked me if I could put Hermione up until her place is secure again. I've got a house in Bucktown, it's a lot safer than a rented apartment."

_Okay, that makes sense, in a twisted way. But why wouldn't he host Hermione at his- ahh. He didn't want people asking questions, or worse, making assumptions. Considerate of him, really. Karrin is an acceptable substitute. While probably not warded, her threshold is stronger against most supernatural creatures._

"Ahh."

Hermione looked confused. "Threshold?"

Karrin eyed her oddly. "I'd have thought you're all over that information."

"Never heard of it."

"It has to do with the security of a house. A solid threshold is built by a family living in a house for generations. Rented apartments don't have strong thresholds, evidenced by the crispy-style vampire in your bedroom. He couldn't even get past the door at my place without an engraved invitation."

"Oh! I'll have to ask Harry about it later."

"Fine. Get your stuff together for 3 or 4 days. I've got towels and linens, you just need clothes and whatever toiletries you need."

_Christ, Murphy. Why not tell her right out you don't like her?_

"Erm...fine. Give me a few." she said, disappearing into her room and shutting the door, presumably to get some other clothes on and pack.

Sally looked up at Karrin, who was watching the door with a frown.

"Why don't you like her?"

"Hmm?" _That sounds like Male; she must be proficient._

"You _don't like her_. Why?"

"What gives you that idea?"

"The amount of attitude you just threw at her. The fact you just threw her romantic interest out and told her what was happening, rather than letting him explain it."

She rolled her eyes. "Fine. I don't like her. What's the point?"

"She's a sweet girl. Yes, she's had her problems, and she's an absolute trouble magnet." Sally said, suddenly frowning. "How long have you been in love with Dresden?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Karrin said, turning away. She thought she had heard a snort from the front door, where Stallings was trying in vain to at least fix the door enough to seal it for the night, but his head was currently outside the door so she couldn't confirm it; it was the only thing that saved him.

Sally narrowed her eyes, standing up and channeling her _Queen Bitch_ persona. It came in useful when she was in a scene, or in situations like this.

"Don't give me that bullshit. You work with him a lot, don't you? You're annoyed with both him and her, when you didn't have a problem with either of them last time you were here."

Karrin rolled her eyes again. "Just because I work with him doesn't mean I'm in love with the moron. He's a huge pain in the ass to deal with."

"Which means that you're still dealing with him because..."

Karrin's eyes narrowed. "I deal with him because it _closes cases_. Whatever problem I have, it's _my_ problem. Not yours to psychoanalyze. If I love Harry, what does it matter? We're not going to get together. She's got him locked down pretty tight already. Besides..." Karrin said, suddenly turning sad. "It wouldn't work. We're too different. I know about that _opposites attract _bullshit, but...the real world doesn't work that way. I've been burned too many times to get close to a guy again. But Dresden...he couldn't deal with my petty shit. My stupid little crush on him. He couldn't do a fling. God knows I love him, who wouldn't-"

The bedroom door slammed open from where it had cracked a moment before. Hermione stood in the doorway, looking cold and untouchable, with a large surly cat in his cat carrier. Sally shuddered, knowing that look. The Ice Queen was back.

Hermione had adopted that persona for the first 6 months or so she had known her. Sally suspected it was a defense of someone that didn't want to be hurt again. She had been mauled emotionally before her trek to the States, and she had tried to lock out any future romantic interests. She was fine around friends, but as soon as somebody came onto her, she would project this impenetrable ice wall.

"Lieutenant Murphy, I'm ready. Let's get going."

"_Shit." _Murphy muttered under her breath. "Okay. John Stallings there, by the door, drove us. We'll have to stop by SI to grab my car."

"I'll apparate you there in the morning, let's just head straight home." she said more quietly, trying not to clue Stallings in too. _It was bad enough she was getting Murphy involved in her life..._

"Fine. Let's go then."

* * *

John Stallings, Detective Sergeant of Special Investigations, didn't want to be in the car right now. He was seriously wondering how badly he'd be injured if he threw himself out the door.

This, despite the fact that it was _his_ car, and he was _driving_. But the 20° below zero demeanor between the two women was giving him frostbite; and it was June.

He kept silent; God knows he could only make things worse for himself if he drew any attention to himself. He'd tried to avoid most of the mushy stuff between the two, but had caught enough of it to know it was a goddamned soap opera. _It's 'The Young and the Magical,' for Christ's sake,_ he thought. He hoped their therapist was getting hazard pay, maybe wore a bomb-disposal suit during sessions.

The drive to Karrin's place in Bucktown was far longer than it needed to be, despite the fact he'd driven it before and knew exactly how far it was.

He let them out at her little multi-story house, and watched them get into the house before he drove away.

God only knew if one of them would kill the other before the night was through.

* * *

Karrin opened the door, locking it behind both of them. She looked at the little beaded bag the younger girl had, with a spare glance at the big orange tom in the cat carrier, hissing and spitting. "Sure you'll have enough?"

"Yes. Where am I staying?"

"This room." Karrin said, directing her to a guest room.

"Good night." Hermione said frostily, closing the door solidly and putting up a half-dozen privacy charms.

Karrin shook her head, turning to her own room. "Way to go, Karrin. Piss off Dresden's girlfriend, who charbroiled a vampire today." she muttered, stripping down and crawling into her bed, pausing only long enough to set alarms.

* * *

Hermione didn't bother with pajamas either, just stripping off the temporary clothes she'd worn to get here, opening Crooks' carrier to let him roam, then she curled up in a ball between the sheets, tears welling up.

She hadn't really meant to listen in on the two talking...they weren't speaking particularly privately, though. _Not everyone's a witch, moron. Muggles can't cast privacy charms!_

She wondered if Harry would still want to talk to her after the night's events. He'd given her a nice hug before he left, but the rather abrupt departure set off some of her perennial uncertainties. And Karrin's rather cold treatment of her, combined with the notion that Karrin loved Harry too, didn't help matters.

She cried herself to sleep, whatever little sleep she would actually find today.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Coming to a Head

* * *

Hermione woke to the patting of a feline paw on her face.

"Mmf. Go'way, Crooks." she mumbled, burying her face in the pillow. The big orange tom laid down on her back, and began to chew on her hair, pulling and biting.

After 2 minutes of it, she finally bolted upright.

"Enough!" she shrieked, throwing Crookshanks off her back as she sat up. The big cat glared reproachfully from the end of the bed, then jumped off, standing next to the door.

"You little tub of lard, you woke me up so I'd feed you?"

A kitty nod later, she was grumbling and groaning as she climbed out of bed, pulling on a short kimono. She grabbed her beaded bag and headed for the bathroom across the hall; she ran into Murphy as she came out from her own shower.

The two shared an icy glare of greeting, before Murphy stepped to one side. Hermione stepped past, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Karrin shook her head, shaking out her wet blonde hair and tying it back into a brief ponytail, then looked down; at her feet was a large orange cat, with a squashed face and rumpled fur.

"Oh, it's you. What's your name then?"

"Mrroww!"

"Right. I'm talking to a cat." she muttered, shaking her head as she went into the kitchen, the big cat following hopefully.

She whipped up a quick breakfast; scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, and some fresh fruit. She gave the cat a corner of bacon, which vanished preternaturally fast from her fingers.

"Demon cat." she muttered.

"He's more of a magical cat, actually." Hermione said from the door. She looked fresh-faced and clean, her hair dry and styled.

"You work fast."

"Magic. It's wonderful to have."

"Dresden never seems to do that. Always takes him forever to take a shower."

Hermione glowered at her for the insinuation.

"Oh, cut that out. I'm not insinuating anything. But whenever I have to wake him up for a case, he takes fricking forever to take a shower. You'd think the ice water he keeps in his apartment would encourage him to go faster."

"Hmm." Hermione said, picking through her food. She offered another piece of bacon to Crooks, who nibbled at it fiercely.

"I've never met a cat that likes bacon. I mean, I'm sure Dresden's cat does. But then, he'd eat anything that's not bigger than him."

"Habit from school. He used to get fed from the Great Hall tables."

Murphy took a few bites of egg and bacon, then snagged a piece of fruit.

"What was your school like?"

"What, U of C?"

Murphy turned an expectant look on the other woman, who smirked sarcastically. "Whatever you called it...Hogwarts, right?"

"It's a castle. In the Scottish Highlands. I learned magic there."

"I wonder why Dresden never talked about any schools."

"He said he was apprenticed."

"I know that...what I mean is, did he even know about them?"

Hermione turned her eyes on Murphy, searching as deep as she dared without Legilimency so as not to completely shatter the 4th Law. Murphy flinched as she met her eyes, but after a few seconds, relaxed.

"This has to be secret."

"I can keep one."

Hermione explained as much as she dared about the British Wizarding World and Hogwarts. She glossed on details, especially about her and her friends.

"That explains the rash of terrorist attacks and murders in the late nineties in Britain."

"Hearing about it on the news pales to living through it." Hermione said, suppressing a shudder.

"I can understand that. There've been some wild stories out of Chicago that I was right in the middle of, or at least investigating."

"I heard of a few. I had friends in Bianca's Velvet Room when it burned to the ground. A bunch of people from the club scene were trucked up there for the party." She looked up, expectantly.

Murphy betrayed nothing, but suddenly felt nervous. She didn't remember much about that week (a blessing, really; having the Nightmare possess her was one of her top-three worst memories.) She knew from departmental reports later on, and her own talks with Butters in the morgue that not all of the bodies that were in the mansion when it burned were human. She knew a bit about Bianca's business, and knew that Dresden was involved. How much, she wasn't sure. But she'd seen enough major property damage caused by Dresden to recognize his handiwork. Had he told her about his role in that burning?

"It was a mess."

"I also was stuck in my apartment, watching out the window, when that huge storm rolled over the lake last June."

"I caught the first part of that. I was involved in the little battle at Walmart, when some Fae hitmen came after Harry. I took down an ogre and a tree with a chainsaw." Murphy said, smirking at the memory.

"And finally, I was deathly ill this February; that short-lived _black plague_ epidemic that got nearly a hundred thousand people ill, all travelers on airplanes and trains. Then, as if a light was switched on, every single person suffering from the illness recovers. _At the same time._"

"Hmm." God, she did _not_ want to get into that episode. There were horrible triggers all over that one. Men without tongues murdered with long blades, mob bosses chartering helicopters which were piloted by Valkyries, the grotesque ritual murder of an old man in an airport chapel.

"What other crazy things happened?"

"March of 2000, a bunch of people ended up with their hearts torn out, no visible evidence of _how_. Dresden followed it to the source, a small lakehouse north of the city. Along the way, Harry burned down Marcone's club, I got stung by a 6 foot scorpion and didn't remember much of what had happened after. I'm told we went on a ride on an elevator though."

"That's not much of an adventure." Hermione scoffed; Karrin had to admit, it sounded like the voice of experience talking.

"Going both up and down in the elevator shaft by riding on a column of air, then squashing said 6 foot scorpion, is pretty adventurous. Oh, he also got picked up by the uniforms while standing naked in the rain, after fighting off some sort of summoned demon."

"Looks like I missed out." Hermione said, a grin on her face. Murphy just frowned, and turned her attention to her cooling food. She'd kept her face and voice neutral so far, and talked about things that were relatively inconsequential, but her dislike was growing.

Hermione leveled her eyes at the older woman. "Why don't you like me?"

Blue eyes met brown, glaring across the table like lightning.

Murphy's temper, its fuse already only a half-inch long, burnt through.

"Because you're not _right_ for him. You cause or draw more trouble than I've _ever_ seen, even in 3_ years_ of putting up with Dresden. You can't control yourself. You continually throw yourself at someone who's already turned you down. You're this pretty little bitch, and just because you've got magic and a hell of a rescue fantasy, he's wrapped around your little finger."

Hermione's face was getting red as Murphy spoke, and she finally snapped after a deafening moment of silence.

"You think you're any better, you jealous twat? I heard you talking to Sally; you're in love with him. Don't make out that you're just looking after his interests, when you've got every reason in the world to drive me away." Hermione said, biting back tears and a churning gut.

"You were listening, huh? What _exactly_ did you hear?" Murphy sneered.

"I heard the words from your own mouth. 'God knows I love him, who wouldn't.' Seems pretty clear to me."

Murphy laughed mirthlessly. "If you're going to eavesdrop, you should actually listen to the _whole_ conversation. I was telling her why I _wasn't_ with Dresden, and _never would be_. Hell, I _told_ you that first morning."

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "You can say that now..."

"Scout's honor. I told you the morning after your problem with the vampire. I can't do serious. I couldn't throw myself into a relationship with Dresden, we'd drive each other crazy. He's too intense. I haven't gone on a date in years, actually. Since the last divorce." Murphy said, slumping back into her chair.

"Why are you trying to stop us then?" Hermione asked, frowning.

"Because I think you two will destroy each other. You cling on him like a limpet mine. Admittedly, you've had good reasons. Even so, he's...odd about that. I've never seen him like that with any other woman."

"From what I understand, that's a small pool. And from what I've heard, they were pretty short and stormy." Hermione said, remembering the photo and the little diamond ring in his closet.

"Exactly like how you two have been."

"Not exactly by choice." Hermione snorted.

"But you have to admit you two have shared in some chaos." Murphy said, glaring across the table.

"And this is a surprise how?" Hermione said, giving her a _look. _Murphy looked at the girl as she glared defiantly back at her. She imagined what the conversation with Dresden would be like on the same topic. Apart from the voice and probably word choice, along with the British accent, it would have been too similar. Probably more vulgar, though.

"You two deserve each other." she sighed, abandoning the cause. "Just try not to keep me up late with catastrophes anymore, huh?"

Hermione's face seemed to transform, from a cold glare to a grin.

"No promises."

Karrin just groaned, putting her head in her hands to the chiming of gleeful laughter.

* * *

"_Georgia."_

"Hey, Harry. What's up?" Georgia said, looking across the table at Billy. Her boyfriend wore a concerned look on his face; his hearing was good enough to hear both sides of the conversation.

"_Did you ever get a chance to talk to Murph?"_

"No, I got hammered at work this week."

"_Damn."_

"Why?"

"_Hermione stayed the night at her place."_

"Uh..._what_?"

"_She had a home intruder, Red Court. Or at least, one connected to the one I torched a week ago."_

"_God damn it_, Dresden, why didn't you say something? Is she alright?" Georgia snarled.

"_She picked him up before he even got in. Soon as she knew he wasn't human, she torched him. Sunlight, actually."_ His voice was touched with amusement.

"Jesus, Mary and Joseph." she muttered. Billy dropped his fork on his plate in a clatter.

"_That about says it."_

"Why'd she stay with Karrin?" _you moron_, she thought.

"_I didn't want Murphy freaking out if I offered my place again. She's got one of the few thresholds I know about."_

"You could have called Michael..."

"_At 3 in the morning?"_

"Dresden, you've got to get past whatever problem is preventing you from talking to Michael. I know he's worried about you." _It's not like he calls every week asking about you or anything..._Georgia shared a long-suffering look across the table with Billy.

"_Maybe this week."_ he temporized.

"So she went with Murphy?" Georgia sighed.

"_Yeah."_ Harry's voice was flat.

"This could be either good or bad."

"_How so?"_

"Either they'll clear the air and be more comfortable with each other, or they'll try to kill each other."

"_Hell's Bells."_ She could hear him sigh in exasperation.

"Either way, I bet you'll find both of them at the station this morning."

"_Should I bring bail money?"_

"Couldn't hurt." Georgia said, smirking now. She heard another sigh over the line.

"_Alright. Thanks, Georgia. Tell Billy to stop smirking."_ Dresden said, hanging up. Georgia looked up to see Billy's face drop from his usual self-satisfied smirk to a look of astonishment.

"How does he do that?"

* * *

Murphy felt her body squeezed through a rubber hose, and suddenly found herself standing on her feet.

She doubled over, emptying her stomach in an intense wave of nausea. Hermione stood nearby, smirking, then once she was done vomiting, waved her wand lazily and the mess vanished.

"Blegh. Should you be doing that in public?" Karrin muttered, glaring at Hermione darkly.

"Nobody's around." she said, having checked for muggles beforehand. "Here, have a drink." she said, holding out a glass of conjured ice-water.

Murphy cleared her mouth of the taste first, then took a long drink of the clean, cool water. Once she was done, the glass and water vanished as well.

"Congratulations on your first Side-along Apparition."

"You bitch, you knew that would happen." Murphy muttered. Hermione grinned fiercely.

"You're all in one piece; I didn't splinch you or anything. I consider that a successful jump."

They stepped out of the blind alley, about a block from the station, and Hermione walked with Karrin.

After their heart to heart, they'd agreed to mutual dislike. It didn't mean they wouldn't help each other, and they wouldn't let it spill over into their relative relationships with Dresden, but Hermione was strangely pleased.

Karrin was infuriating, but she really only wanted the best for her friend; Hermione could respect that. And she knew she could rely on the older woman in a pinch. In the meantime, it was fun to spar with her. Neither gave up in defeat easily, so they could get into a deadlock and not even notice.

Oh yes, this would be fun.

* * *

Harry sat in an empty desk at SI, the desk of one of the guys who wasn't there that day. He wasn't sure if Georgia knew what she was talking about, but he knew Murphy probably hadn't had a chance to get her car, so she'd be here...and once she got here, she'd get roped into working.

He was prepared for the worst, harsh glares between the two at the most civilized, so he was surprised when he heard Hermione's tinkling bell of laughter intermingled with the coarser, throaty laugh of Murphy as they came up the stairs.

"Harry!" Hermione said excitedly, rushing forward to get a hug. Harry was rocked back about a foot by its force, and looked over Hermione's shoulder to see Murphy shaking her head, rolling her eyes, and heading for her office. Stallings, sitting at his desk, watched the two women with fascination. Considering the frosty demeanor last night, seeing the two walking side by side and laughing was...interesting.

"Feeling better today?"

"Karrin and I had a nice talk this morning. And yes, I'm feeling better. Thank you." she said, kissing his cheek gently. She seemed to settle down as he watched; she had a subtle tension in her shoulders before she saw his face that quickly faded away; specifically, his eyes.

"I'll just have a quick word with Murphy..."

"Honestly, Harry, we're fine. Now come on. You're buying me lunch."

"I am?" Harry asked, bemused.

"You are. Then you're going to introduce me to this contractor you talked about. I want to meet him before I let him work on my place. I've had _wars_ with my landlord about the people he sends in to fix things."

"Uh-"

"Where are we going for lunch?"

Harry had his mouth still a bit open; it looked like he was still processing. She giggled, and gave him another kiss on the cheek. Harry snapped out of his daze, and grinned at her.

"We're going to the place they treat me like a king."

* * *

"Morgan." he said, picking up the phone.

"_Mr. Morgan, this is Arthur Curie down at the Morgue. We've had some...unusual bodies come in."_

"Unusual?"

"_Like the Velvet Room affair a few years back. The M.E. has shoved them off on one of our assistant M.E's, calling them aberrations, but I saw them coming in. Both are badly burned."_

"Thanks for letting me know, Dr. Curie." Donald Morgan hung up the phone, sitting back in a padded leather office chair.

_A new player in town? _He reached over for his file cabinet, pulling it out and checking his list of the usual suspects.

Number one was his first suspicion whenever anything happened in Chicago; Harry Dresden.

He pulled up Dresden's file from his cabinets and leafed through it. It was about 3 inches thick, detailing his early life, the murder (in self defense) of Justin DuMorne and the subsequent trial, his activities in Chicago, and the things Morgan suspected he did but couldn't prove.

The man was impressive, he had to admit. Not many could lay claim to killing one of the Queens of Faerie, even if it was the least of them. He'd torn down half a dozen penny-ante sorcerers with the aid of his mortal pets in the Chicago PD, destroyed a _loup garou_, and it was rumored that he'd even had an attempt on his life by an Outsider, most likely He Who Walks Behind.

The problem was, to have done these remarkable feats, the man had to have skirted the boundaries of law.

He only had the one proven law violation; the death of DuMorne. And that was questionably in self-defense. Every other time Dresden had killed, they were either creatures and not under the law, or he killed them via mortal means; the man had a pretty nasty handgun, and was not above using shotguns or other more illegal weapons.

His rumored dealings with Denarians were questionable, but again, nothing he could point to. He had to admit, a man didn't have one of the fabled Three fall into his lap without having some good qualities. The swords wouldn't allow it.

Morgan was almost glad that Dresden had never shown an inclination to mind magic; most of that stuff was gray as it was, and a magus with Dresden's strength could overpower nearly anybody. He was far better, it seemed, at power exchanges, thaumaturgy, following trails, and evocations. A brute; exactly what he'd been born for, and trained for by DuMorne.

The truth was, Morgan didn't hate the man for no reason. He reached over to his desk and pulled a framed photograph of a beautiful blonde woman to himself, stroking the glass with callused fingers.

_Ilyena._

Ilyena Talyanova Groschenko, a beautiful Russian woman, was engaged to be married to him. He'd given her a ring, and they'd set a date. The age difference hadn't bothered the younger woman, more than a century between them; they'd loved each other.

Then Archangel happened.

When the Reds took out the brute squad at Archangel, only finally revenged by Senior Council member Simon Pietrovich's death curse, Ilyena had been one of the fallen.

When the reaction team of Wardens got to Archangel via the Ways, and saw the utter devastation wrought by the old wizard, they knew it would be folly to check for survivors...but they checked anyways.

Morgan had been the one to find Ilyena. She'd been slashed nearly in two by a Red, probably a strong one. She'd fought to the last, and he suspected her death curse had ended her attacker.

_Ilyena. Until we meet again..._

No, Harry Dresden wasn't Donald Morgan's #1 suspect for nothing.

_Time to make a call._

* * *

Hermione settled back in Dresden's couch, feeling a bit stuffed. "Oof. I think a Whopper was just too big."

He lounged beside her, finishing off her fries. "Eyes bigger than your stomach?"

"Always. I'll admit, I didn't think of Burger King as the place where you're treated like one. It wasn't a bad idea though." she murmured, as Mister bounded over to get his mandatory head scratches.

The phone rang, and Harry sighed, getting up and picking up the receiver as he watched Hermione give Mister ear scritches; the cat looked unbearably smug. _Laugh it up, fuzzball._

"Dresden's Roadkill Cafe, you kill 'em we grill 'em." Hermione giggled, then quieted down.

"_Insolent as usual, Dresden."_

"Why, it's almost as if you know me." Harry said, recognizing the voice. His face turned into a frown as he wondered why the grizzled old warden would call him. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Warden Morgan?"

"_I hear there's some Red activity in town."_

_Wonder how he heard about that. _"Who'd you get that from?"

"_You're not the only one with a source at the morgue, Dresden. I've been around longer than you have."_

"Ahh. You heard about our resident deadheads, then?"

"_Two corpses, burned to a crisp. The only reason I'm not there with a sword is that they're clearly both Reds."_

"You know, we never talk anymore." Harry temporized, eyeing the staff leaning near the door.

"_I know you're responsible for at least one of them, Dresden."_

"Yeah. The one from the club on Clark Street. He was taking a patron out for a bite." Harry said in an odd tone, glancing at Hermione and getting a reassuring smile in return.

"_Hmm. How did you know it was a Red?"_

"Glamour. He was pushing it pretty heavily to get her away. Then I confronted him, and he transformed in front of me."

"_Hmmph. What about the other?"_ _Was that disappointment I heard?_

"To be honest, I didn't see that one happen. What does it look like?" Hermione shot him an odd look, but he held up one finger to shush her.

"_It looks like it was left out in the sun, Dresden."_

"Maybe that's what happened? I haven't investigated."

"_Probably didn't even get your lazy ass out of bed yet."_

"While I won't lay claim to anything else, I take offense at the suggestion that my ass is anything less than firm and muscular." Hermione snorted.

The only response was a disgusted scoff.

"So. If you're interested about the sun-baked vamp, there's this paid service I provide where I find out information for clients. You should look into it."

"_I'll be seeing you, Dresden." 'Click'_

"That wasn't ominous at all." he said, looking at the receiver with alarm.

"Should I go?" Hermione said, sitting up and alert now; she had keyed off his nervousness.

"Maybe we should go see Michael. You can get to know him and see for yourself." _And I'll feel better behind a heavier threshold, with a Knight of the Cross with us._

"Okay." she said, smiling.

As they went out to the Beetle, he couldn't shake the ominous feeling that speaking with Morgan had left hanging over him.

Maybe it was time to call in reinforcements.

* * *

Michael Carpenter looked up from his newspaper when he heard the at once familiar and long-missing wheezing putt-putt of an engine pulling into the drive and stopping with a rattle, and looked out the window.

"Charity? Dresden's here."

"Hmmph." she said, nonetheless quickly straightening up the main room, which was filled with toys (the detritus of many children; they could be heard playing out back, under Molly's watchful/bored eye).

Soon enough there was a knock at the door, and Michael got up, heading to open it.

He peered through a crack and saw Dresden, with a young brunette woman.

"Harry." he said, opening the door and engulfing the taller man in a bear hug. He could feel Harry uncomfortably react to it, struggling with where to put his arms.

He could feel it, once he had contact with Harry. The taint. It was tangible, for those with eyes to see, and Dresden _had_ to know about it; he'd avoided Michael and his family enough for it to be fairly certain. It felt suppressed though, and he wondered just how the wizard had pulled it off.

He'd been walking around the side of the house that day in February, when a car drove by, depositing a tarnished silver coin in his lawn, feet away from his youngest son. He'd seen Dresden stoop and grab the thing before the child could touch it, sacrificing himself for a member of his family _yet_ again.

He had kept as close an eye on Dresden as possible afterwards, enlisting the secret help of some of Dresden's friends, especially the Alphas and Murphy, without actually telling them the problem. The problem was, Dresden was frustratingly isolated. He kept to himself, only appearing when there was trouble, or when he was on a case.

Dresden didn't seem to be in such a dark mood now as he was in February though; he wondered how much of that was attributable to the young woman next to him. She was new; he'd never met her before.

"Hello, Michael." Harry finally said, released of the vise grip.

"And who is this lovely lady?" he asked, in a fatherly way. She giggled.

"Hermione Granger." she said, giving him a brief hug. He could feel some darkness deep within her, dark deeds she wished she would never see in her dreams again. It felt similar to Dresden's natural inclination to darkness; something he was always fighting, striving to stay on the lighter path. It was a similar conflict.

"Lovely to meet you. Come in, come in."

They sat in the couches, and Michael looked at the two. "Coffee, tea? Something else?"

"I'll have a Coke if you have one."

"A tea sounds lovely."

"Coke and tea it is." he said, smiling briefly. Charity nodded at Michael from the kitchen door, before he got up, and disappeared back into the kitchen to prepare it. A few minutes later, she came out with a tray; a Coke, two coffees, and English tea.

Hermione took a waft of the tea, and sighed. "Heavenly." she said, taking a sip.

Charity sat down beside Michael, one hand planted possessively on his thigh.

"So what brings you two out here?" he asked, meeting Harry's eyes without fear. Hermione wondered at that; Harry wouldn't meet _her_ eyes directly, and was even worse with everybody else.

"Actually, we're here on business for her." he said, hooking a thumb over his shoulder, then leaned back.

She sighed. "Well, I've had a break-in at my apartment. Bluntly, I've not liked the handymen my landlord hired in the past, and I've an agreement with him that I would provide my own in future. I'm just _not_ comfortable having strangers in my place."

"Ahh." Michael nodded approvingly. "And you need someone to fix anything that's broken?"

"It's really only the door; I jerry-rigged it closed for now. I would do the major repairs myself, but...I want some extra security."

"Sensible. What sort of break-in was it?" Michael asked, glancing at Harry.

"Red Court. A rogue, actually." he answered. Michael sat back, digesting it while sipping his coffee. Charity looked to him concernedly.

"Why is the Court interested in Miss Granger?"

"I don't think they're interested in me so much as I got in the way." she said, leaning into Dresden a bit (which was not missed by either pair of eagle eyes watching them).

"I was working a case at a club about 2 weeks ago, and I prevented her from going with the guy; it turned out he was a rogue Red Court vamp. Then, just last night, his partner went after her at her place."

"Mercy!" Charity said, getting up and stepping over to the couch, inspecting Hermione. "Did he hurt you, child?"

She grinned. "He tried." she said, sliding her wand out of her wrist holster and showing it to Charity, then stowing it away. She stood up, face wiped blank.

"Ahh. This explains a great deal."

"It does. I never imagined a Sunlight charm could take out a vampire like that."

"You're a wizard, then?"

"Witch, actually. Same thing though."

Michael looked at Dresden searchingly, asking without words exactly what the difference was.

"Term of art." he said bluntly, grinning. Truth was, Harry didn't know the difference either; the usual Council term of art _was_ wizard for both.

"Ahh. Well...are you sure you want to go with purely physical security? I'm sure you could probably ward it..."

"I have several wards on my apartment, and I'll be adding more. But to be honest, I'd need a solid foundation to work off of. My door is wrecked, and even if I repair it magically, it's never the same."

Michael gave Harry the same searching look, and this time got a shrug. _Curious. I'd have expected Harry to be at least knowledgeable about it._

"Well, I can certainly do that for you. Now, as to options..." he said, grabbing a pad and paper to write down the specs.

She described exactly what she wanted, and he sketched it out, determining exactly what it would cost.

"A steel security door, with a double-locked bolt and a 3 inch steel door bar, will run about...this much." he said, writing down a figure. She looked at it, and after brief consideration, nodded.

"Sounds good."

"Do you need it done right away?"

"Beginning of the week is fine. I'm staying with Karrin Murphy right now."

"Oh. Are you comfortable there?" Charity asked, looking curious.

"Oh, she and I have an understanding." Hermione said, grinning smugly.

Harry snorted, getting a swat on the arm in retaliation.

"Honestly!" she huffed.

"I feel like I'm missing the joke..." Michael said, looking to Charity.

"Girl talk." she said, and he rolled his eyes, getting a swat of his own.

"Come, let's talk in the kitchen." Charity said, snagging Hermione and nearly dragging her away.

Once out of earshot, "She's a very nice girl." Michael said, smiling.

"That she is. She's had lots of troubles recently. I'm hoping that talking with someone will help."

"She's had a troubled past?" Michael asked, getting a nod. He'd had that feeling.

"She lived through a civil war of some kind in Britain during the late nineties."

Michael furrowed his brow, trying to think of what Dresden was talking about.

"IRA?" he asked, finally.

"No. My impression is it was an internal thing, more like a gang war. But not. I don't really know. She hasn't talked about it much; she did say she was physically tortured as a teenager."

"God's blood! She certainly seems well-adjusted for all that." Michael felt a sense of horror at the thought.

"She's had a few breakdowns since I met her, but to be honest, those circumstances were entirely justified. Vampire attacks?" he said, shaking his head.

Michael nodded. "I'm glad, in a way, she's met you. You have more experience with that sort of conflict than anyone I know." he said, hinting loudly that he knew something of Dresden's problems.

"There's something I meant to ask you." Harry said, blatantly ignoring the hint. "I got a call from Morgan today, apparently he's heard about the dead vamps. While they wouldn't necessarily go after her for killing a vamp, she's attracted attention from the Council with the spell she used to do it. Some things in her past might set them off. I'm going to talk to Eb, but if worst comes to worst..."

"She can come here. We'll protect her as best we're able, and spirit her out if not." Michael said, looking steadily at his friend. Harry smiled grimly, nodding.

* * *

Hermione sat down with Charity at the kitchen table. She could feel the older woman's eyes on her, and looked up, to see Charity studying her carefully. There was a trace of dissatisfaction.

"So, how did you meet Dresden?" she asked carefully.

Hermione told the story, and Charity nodded, frowning at the description of her clubbing and when she heard of them sharing a bed, although there was a little smile that appeared when Hermione made it clear that she had _not_ slept with Harry.

"He's too good a man for that. When I told him I wanted to thank him...well, _properly_, he turned me down. Said it would be like taking advantage of a drunk person." She sniffled momentarily, but smiled. "He's way too perceptive for his own good."

"For all the things I don't like about the man, I have to admit he's been that way for a long time."

"You don't like him?"

"He saved my youngest son's life, so I cannot _hate_ him. Besides, hatred is a waste of time. But I do not overly like him. He's...reckless. My husband has been arrested because of him, he's been injured because of him...he could have died in February if I hadn't been a bit foresighted with my armoring skills."

"Wait...February?"

"Hmm. Dresden, Sanya, my husband, and that dreadful criminal Marcone were riding on top of that train fighting against Nicodemus and his ilk, to save the Shroud of Turin. Shi-someone had already been killed for defending Dresden, sacrificed his own life to save him. When they went after Nicodemus...I feared none of them would survive. Nicodemus has killed _enough_ Knights."

"Who...who is Nicodemus?" Hermione asked carefully, realizing the session of Girl Talk had turned into something far more deadly serious.

"He is Darkness. The leader of the Order of the Blackened Denarius. The Fallen." she said, saying no more.

Hermione digested that for a few minutes, and they sat in silence. Charity was watching her with piercing eyes.

"What do they do?"

"Mayhem. Destruction. Armageddon."

"I'm familiar with all three."

"I doubt it..." Charity said, frowning at the thought of this innocent-looking girl being involved in such things.

"When I was 11 years old, I was introduced into the world of magic. By the end of the first year at school, I had helped my friend Harry Potter stand against an evil undead wizard...two, or was it three times that year?

"By the age of 15, I had been petrified by a basilisk, had faced off with what we thought was a servant of that same undead sorcerer and soul-sucking manifestations of death, and my friend Harry had been an unwilling witness to the resurrection of said sorcerer to some mockery of life, after surviving a deadly tournament, a true Roman circus.

"I was involved in my first true life or death duel at the age of 16. Another at 17. And from the middle of 1997 to 1998, I was on the run, hiding from dark wizards who hated me for no other reason than I was born to non-magicals - whom I'd erased the memories of, by the way - running around the British countryside looking for the shorn-off pieces of that self-same undead sorcerer's soul, so we could kill the bastard once and for all. I was tortured by a psychopathic bitch named Bellatrix." she said reedily, holding out her arm and showing the faint marks remaining from her scars. "We met Him and his ilk in combat at our school...there were a lot of people rallied there who had formed the resistance against Voldemort.

"We won. Barely. We all fought for our lives, and did things we'll never forget to do so. Harry actually died at one point, and was only able to come back because of some unrepeatable circumstances that tied him to the world. A lot of people I saw as family and friends died that day.

"So don't think I'm somehow immune to such things, just because of my age."

Charity looked at the girl in a whole new light. She was a fighter, as surely as any Knight of the Cross. She reached with two fingers, running it along the marks which read _Mudblood_ on Hermione's arm. Then she put one hand on Hermione's cheek, comfortingly.

"I'm sorry. The Lord says judge not lest ye be judged...and here I am, reading books by their cover." She reached out and hugged Hermione, who gratefully accepted the crushing press.

Hermione heard a tiny sobbing sound through the door that led to the backyard, and cast a silent Hominem Revelio; a little white light shot through the door, and appeared to Hermione as an image of a girl, maybe 15 or 16, leaning against the door.

"You can come in." she said, clearly, startling Charity, who turned to see her oldest, Molly, come hesitantly through the door with her head down in shame.

"Margaret Katherine Amanda Carpenter! What have we told you about eavesdropping?"

"'Eavesdroppers seldom hear any good news.' I know, mom. I'm sorry. I just...I _saw_ them arrive."

"You saw them? You were in back with the others. How..." Charity trailed off, as something occurred to her. Many strange instances that had happened of late, like formerly reliable electronic equipment dying, odd sounds, the sensation that someone was in the room but not visible on a few occasions...they all hit her in the same moment.

"You're...you're a practitioner?"

"I didn't want to tell you, mom." Molly said, starting to cry herself. "I knew you wouldn't approve."

Hermione reached out and took the girl in a hug herself. "It's alright, hun. It's really a wonderful gift...as long as you learn the right and wrong way to do it."

Charity sat, unmoving, her face stony. "I don't want you to...I just...it's dangerous, Molly. Especially with the Council at war. They'll draw you in, try to make you into a soldier. I forbid it."

Molly burst into greater tears and buried her head in Hermione's neck. Hermione looked over her shoulder (Molly was as tall as she was) and frowned.

"Charity, the magic will happen whether you want it to or not. It's a part of her. If she tries to suppress it...I've heard of bad things that happen to people who suppress a part of themselves like that."

"They feel unfulfilled, empty...like they've cut off a part of their souls. Yes, I know _exactly_ what it feels like to lay aside power."

"Mom?" Molly said wetly, looking over her shoulder.

"I learned, at about the same age, Molly, that I was special. My parents didn't like it. They pushed me into hospitals, asylums, "rest homes". Prisons." she muttered, her eyes distant as she sank back into her chair.

"I left as soon as I was able, at 18. I fell in with a bad crowd. A young man named Gregor. He promised power. And he seemed to be ever more powerful, all the time. But members of the coven were disappearing." Molly sniffled.

"I found out, too late, what he was doing. He was selling us for power...giving us in sacrifice to a dragon. Siriothrax. He tried to sacrifice me to the dragon, but someone saved me..."

"And that's when you met Michael?" Hermione asked, smiling now. Charity nodded, tears running down her cheeks now.

"He came, with a shining sword. He killed Siriothrax. He rescued me, from the dragon and from myself. And I vowed never to use my power again. I felt so empty...like I had lost part of myself...until I had you, Molly. My first little miracle. I felt complete again."

Molly raced forward, hugging her mother nearly to death.

"I'm so sorry, Mom. I shouldn't have held it back from you. I just...I didn't want to disappoint you. You already disapprove of what I do..."

"That's because you dress like a hooligan, Margaret." said her mother, suddenly stern. Molly broke into giggles, then laughter, as she felt an intense burst of relief. Hermione smirked in amusement.

"I'll make a deal, mother...if I tone down the clothing, the makeup, and all that...will you let me pursue magic? I won't make any promises about the hair color." Hermione felt a brief pang as she was reminded of the punky, vivacious Tonks; dead for more than five years now.

Charity sank into her chair, studying her daughter intently. "If you promise to work hard, and to stay on the light path. I can't lose a daughter to Council 'justice'."

"Deal." Molly said, then hugged Charity again, and Hermione again for good measure. Hermione looked over the shoulder of the blonde girl and saw the two men peeking in the door, wondering what had happened. Harry looked bemused, although Michael looked concerned.

"Come in, guys. Michael, I think Molly has something she wants to tell you." She gently pushed Molly towards Michael as he stepped in, looking curious but wary.

"Daddy...I think I'm a wizard."


End file.
